Unstained
by xVampirexElegancex
Summary: It had been far too long since Sebastian Michaelis had met anyone like her. Untouched. Unbroken. Unstained. WARNING: Very mature content, enter at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1

_So, the idea for this hit me one day at work, and I just had to write it down. It started as a oneshot and I wasn't even planning on posting it until my dear friend **SangNoire** insisted that I do. _

_**WARNING: This is incredibly smutty and incredibly detailed.** If your tender sensibilities can't handle it, I suggest you leave now. **YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**  
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><p>He sat crouched on a rooftop, watching the cars roll meekly by. That terrible, wrenching urge was twisting deep in the pit of his stomach, filling him with the fires of both hunger and lust. He was deep within the grasp of <em>mæccea<em>, or the drive to mate with another; humans would call it a "heat." It had been over 150 years since he'd last surfaced into the mortal realm; taking care of his young master had eaten up the majority of that time. The little earl had noticed recently that his faithful butler had been distracted and on edge. He'd pulled the older demon aside for an explanation that every evening.

"Sebastian, what is the matter with you? You haven't been yourself lately, and it's starting to annoy me."

"Forgive me, master. It has been a while since I've eaten, and the drive to mate has gotten stronger. It makes it…difficult to concentrate. I apologize."

"Hmph. Sounds like you need some time away to slake your hunger. I think one year ought to do."

"But Master-"

"I can take care of myself for that short amount of time at least, can't I? And if I do need you, I can summon you in an instant." The boy had traced one black-nailed finger under the eye that still held the seal of their contract. "Now, off with you." Sebastian had smiled and knelt before his master, placing his hand over his heart as a sign of respect.

"Yes, my lord."

Now he was here, in a small, suburban town, searching for humans to use and consume. He preferred smaller towns to big cities when hunting for prey; the rush and overcrowding gave the poor souls a bitter flavor that he found rather unpleasant.

Suddenly, with a twist of his insides, he picked up a scent that inflamed his hunger. He followed the seductive aroma, leaping noiselessly from rooftop to rooftop, before he found its source. It was a young woman walking alone beside the vacant street, huddled against the cold inside a blood-red coat. She wore strange clothing, more suitable for a man than a young lady. He took a deeper sample of her scent, and a ripple of desire shuddered through him. She smelled of humans, of course, but she also carried the unmistakable smell of a demoness. And not just that; a demoness gripped by _mæccea._

His body felt as if it were on fire; the erotic fragrance called to him, drew him toward her. He looked at her, studied her closely, and as she raked her fingers through her long, wavy chestnut hair, he saw that she indeed had black fingernails, one of the physical marks of a demon. He gave a most uncharacteristic gasp, his lust barely controllable now. Her body, the little of it that he could see, called to him. Her scent sang to him, making promises of the many sinful, delicious things he could do to her. He still craved a soul, but at the moment, that hunger had been completely overshadowed by _mæccea._ Everything else but her was erased from his mind, and he knew that for the year that he remained on earth, he would have none but her. His mouth watered at the thought of taking her into his bed whenever he wished, of sating himself with her every night. He groaned, his eyes glowing; he could restrain himself no longer.

With a graceful yet predatory leap, he launched himself off of the rooftop and onto the sidewalk in front of her, landing soundlessly on his feet. She gave a short scream, stopping in her tracks. He was momentarily floored by the gentle beauty of her frightened expression, but then his paralysis broke and he stalked forward, a dangerous smirk slowly spreading across his face.

"Well, hello, little one…what's a pretty young thing like you doing out after dark?"

She sounded terrified. "I-I was just walking home…" She swallowed hard. "Wh-Who are you?"

Suddenly he was behind her, catching her arms and holding them by her sides. "I've had many names…but you can call me Sebastian."

She whimpered, a broken sound that he immediately adored. "Let me go."

"Why are you so frightened, little one? Your body wants this; I could smell it a block away." She was trembling now; such a human thing to do. The little temptress had obviously been topside long enough to pick up on mortal traits. He trapped her wrists in one long hand and swept her hair over her shoulder, watching as her slender, delicate neck came into the weak, silver light. There was something that lay against her skin; a string of black beads that fell down her chest and disappeared between her full breasts. He looked at the familiar and detestable placement of the beads along the chain, shock numbing his body.

"A rosary?"

He pulled on the chain, yanking the crucifix that dangled from the end into view. He winced at the sting the holy object left on his skin, but gripped it hard and pulled until it tightened around her neck.

"What are you? I can't detect the reek of an angel on you, so are you human or demon? Speak now, love, or I'll be forced to extract the information myself."

She choked. "H-Human…"

He nodded, then gave the necklace a sharp tug, breaking the chain and letting the damaged rosary fall to the ground, kicking the crucifix into the gutter. He held her to him, his chest pressed against her back, unnaturally still for a long, long moment. Then, he slowly leaned in and pressed the thin blade of his nose against her neck, inhaling deeply. Goosebumps broke out on her skin as his breath washed over her. "Ah…I smell it now. The essence of a human soul…so you're indeed mortal." Oh well. Human or demon, it made no difference to him; he would just have to be a bit more careful with her. Humans were so fragile, and she appeared to be no different. He took another long sniff, and she felt her heart burning in her mouth as his lips curved into a smirk. "There's a freshness to it…a rare purity that I haven't sampled in centuries." His tone lowered to a sensual murmur. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

Silence. Stillness. Then a slight nod. He smiled; how irresistibly charming. Even before he'd sealed the contract with Lord Phantomhive, it had been at least a century since he'd taken a woman's virginity. Untouched women had always been rare, and although he enjoyed bedding a pure soul, after a while he'd simply grown too hungry to care. But now…he was overtaken with the need to consume, defile, to mark her body and stain her innocence. He slid a hand around her throat, tipping her head back.

"I suppose since you're a virgin, I'll be gentle with you…for now." He pressed his lips to her throat in a soft, spine-tingling kiss. "I thought about taking you right here, but a fine young woman like you deserves to be made love to on a warm bed." He released all of her but one hand, grasping it firmly. "Lead the way home, my sweet. And should any thoughts of escape or defiance arise, I'd advise you not to act on them." He squeezed her hand harshly, making her gasp. "I won't kill you, but I can make it so you'd pray for death. It would be a shame to ruin that pretty face…but I will if I have to. Am I clear?"

She nodded, pressing her lips together. He stepped off in the direction she'd been heading, leading her to walk beside him. As they strode along the broken sidewalk, he let his thumb stroke across the back of her hand and over the inside of her wrist, loving the way her tiny teeth bit at her lip to hold in a sigh of arousal. Despite it having been several centuries since he'd been with a woman, he still knew quite well how to seduce, knew where all their sensitive spots were and how to manipulate them to achieve maximum pleasure. He was quite fond of teasing, of sweetly torturing his partner until she begged for release. He smirked at how much he was going to enjoy playing with her.

Within a few minutes, they reached a shabby-looking row of apartments. His nose wrinkled in distaste; this wasn't quite what he was used to, being accustomed to the grandeur of the Phantomhive manor and of his own residence below. She nervously dug out a set of keys from her pocket and unlocked a door with the number "102" on it, leading him inside a living room that smelled like incense and cats. He sighed happily, wanting very much to pet the beautiful creature that he knew must be lurking nearby, but his need was quickly becoming too much for him to control.

As she pushed the door shut, he reached around her and snapped the lock in place, sealing them both inside even if she popped the deadbolt. She seemed fairly docile, but with humans one could never tell. As the bolt latched in place, he spun her around and slammed her up against the door, pressing her back into the cold wood. He leaned into her, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head, twining his fingers between hers. "Now, my beauty…will you tell me your name?"

A small sob was his only response. He moved closer, his lips only a fraction of an inch away from hers. "Now, I know I haven't been to this world in quite some time, but isn't it just good manners to know your lover's name?" He nuzzled her throat with his nose, letting his breath wash lightly over her skin. "Please tell me…"

She gasped. "I-I'm not your…lover…"

"But you will be soon enough. Don't be afraid, my pretty one. I won't hurt you…in fact, I think you'll enjoy it."

There was silence. Then, "Lyra…"

"Lyra." He smiled. "Lovely. Rather musical, don't you think?" He pressed his body against hers, moving a knee between her legs and wedging himself between them. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lyra," he purred.

With that, he moved up and brushed his lips against hers, groaning lightly at the softness no petal could equal. He gathered both of her wrists together, wrapping his long fingers around them, and gently cupped her face in his free hand, tipping her head back to get a better angle. Her eyes were closed, and she stood unresponsive; it was like kissing a living statue. He smirked and lightly brushed his tongue against her lips, trying to open them. To his amusement, she pressed her lips together and shook her head violently, denying him access. He pulled back a little, chuckling darkly. "Now now, little one, let's not be difficult, hm? Part those beautiful blushing pilgrims for me…"

She shook her head again, causing his smirk to widen. If she would not grant him entrance of her own free will, then he could simply make her. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you?" He gripped the tab of her jacket's zipper and pulled it down, opening the blood-red material. It both shocked and thrilled him to see that under another lighter jacket, she had a lacy black shirt on, held up by two impossibly thin straps and showing off quite a bit of her ample bosom. Was this truly how young women were expected to dress these days? The only ladies he'd ever known to dress like this were prostitutes, and she was obviously not, being a virgin and all.

He decided it didn't matter, that he didn't particularly mind seeing as much of her soft, creamy skin as possible. He took his hand from her face and slid it under her shirt, running one cold fingertip lightly down her side. She let out a gasp, and he took this opportunity to slip his tongue past her parted lips, curving his hand in her waist. He groaned quietly into the kiss, ignoring her struggles and swallowing her revolted cries. It had been far too long since he'd felt anything so warm and so soft as her skin. His long, slippery tongue slowly curled around hers, and he gave a quiet chuckle as the soft muscle shrank back from him. She tasted exquisite; warm and rich, with a hint of something sugary. Quite a lovely flavor indeed, like a dark, sweet fruit.

He drew back, smiling softly at the sound of her relieved gasp. Her eyes were drawn to his as he licked his lips, savoring her taste. He sighed softly, his breath like a whisper of silk against her lips. "Do I kiss by the book, my lady?"

One tear slipped from her eye. "Please…stop."

He leaned in to kiss away the traitorous droplet. "Now, now, no tears, my lady. It's unbecoming." With that, he bent and gathered her in his arms, like a groom cradling his new bride. He saw the open doorway at the other end of the room and nodded. "The bedroom is that way, I presume?"

At the word "bedroom," her eyes grew impossibly wide and fearful. "No…no, please! Don't!" She began struggling in his arms, kicking and flailing. He smiled to himself; the way she thrashed against him was only inflaming his desires. It was a promise of how he would make her writhe and squirm with pleasure, the ways he could twist that lithe, supple body around him. He carried her into the bedroom, pleasantly surprised to see that she at least had a decent-sized bed. He laid her down on to the soft sheets, climbing on top of her. He smirked and stroked her cheek.

"Feel free to cry out, Lyra. I've placed a special seal on your home, so no matter how loudly you scream, you won't disturb anyone. No one will be able to hear you." He leaned closer to her as the despair clouded her bright golden-green eyes. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered. "By the end of this night, I will claim you as mine. You will belong to me, and only me."

She sobbed. "Who…what are you?"

He smirked. "You haven't guessed?" He traced her lips with his finger. "Well, my dear," he purred, showing his teeth in a wicked smile as his eyes began to glow, the pupil's slitted and evil, "I am simply one _hell_ of a lover."

She was paralyzed with fear, unable to speak. His eyes, his terrible glowing eyes that pulsed with a malevolent, hellish gleam; they told of darkness and despair, of an unspeakable evil. She knew that he wasn't of this world, remembered how he had torn her rosary from her neck and felt her heart break at the realization that she was now trapped, captured by hellborn eyes with no means of escape.

"Oh, God…"

He laughed softly. "Not even close, my lady." He leaned down to sniff lightly at her hair, sighing at the clean, warm scent. "God is not here, love. He's abandoned you, his beloved child…and He let you fall from grace and into my arms." He brought his lips to hers in a hard kiss, his tongue a ruthless invader. She squirmed and pushed against his shoulders, but her attempts were fruitless. Finally, he released her with a sigh, rolling his blood-red eyes. "As much as I adore that fire in your blood, the struggling is becoming rather tiresome. I will have to ask you to lie still." His stare grew so intense that she swore she could feel the heat of it on her face. "I can make this hurt if you continue to fight me. It is in your best interest to cooperate…now, will you?"

She bit her lip and nodded, bringing her hands down to either side of her head, turning away in a submissive gesture. He smiled and leaned down to kiss her neck.

"Good girl."

_Let the games begin._

He pressed gentle kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, enjoying the cashmere softness of her skin. Her heart was fluttering like a frightened bird in his ear, and he smiled as he planted an open-mouthed kiss directly above the pounding muscle. She squirmed as his hands worked their way under her shirt again. His fingers were so cold as the stroked her flat stomach, but his lips were warm, leaving spots of heat across her skin. She wanted to scream and cry and beg, anything to save herself from this…but it was all useless, and would only irritate him into hurting her. She pressed her lips together, determined not to make a single sound. She knew what he was planning to do, and she would not give in; she refused to cry out in pleasure, she would not moan for him.

He pressed his lips to the V of her cleavage, then with a small growl, he yanked at the neckline of her shirt. There was the brief, harsh purr of ripping fabric, and then she lay beneath him, wearing nothing but her bra from the waist up. She blushed, but closed her eyes and turned her face away, making no sound. His hands slid underneath her back, long fingers working at the clasp until he unhooked it, pulling the fabric contraption away. She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her breasts from his view, and he smiled down at her. "Don't be shy, my lady." He grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms away, pinning them down by her head and drinking in the sight of her exposed breasts. "You look…ravishing."

He lowered his head with a smirk and closed his lips over one nipple in a gentle kiss. She locked her jaw, refusing to gasp even as his tongue-oh God, his _tongue_-brushed against it. She didn't expect such a pleasurable sensation to shoot through her, leaving liquid fire in her veins…she didn't want it to feel so good.

He let out an appreciative hum as his tongue rubbed against the soft bud, coaxing it into hardness. This had always been one of his favorite methods of teasing. The texture and taste was incredibly pleasant, and it was enough to drive a woman crazy without sending her over the edge. However, aside from the fact that she was squirming a bit, she was showing no signs of pleasure. Not even a single gasp. _Stubborn little thing, aren't you? Well, never fear…I'll get a moan out of you yet._ He repeated the treatment on her other nipple, swirling his tongue around it, even flicking it playfully. Still no sound, though he noticed her breathing came a little faster now. He had to give her credit; virgins were extraordinarily sensitive to his lurid kisses, so the fact that she had remained silent for this long was admirable. It truly spoke to the force of her will. He smirked into her skin. _But I know how to break you, my lady. I know how to make you scream._

He kissed his way down her stomach, the fringe of his black hair falling over his face and brushing against her skin. Her heartbeat was so loud and fast that he was afraid it might burst through her chest. He smirked and dipped the tip of his tongue into her navel, reaching the waistband of her pants not long after. He raised his head, his confident crimson eyes meeting her frightened hazel ones. "Is it customary for ladies to wear men's clothing in this age? I must say, I don't particularly care for it. Much too confining…"

With that, his wicked hand crept between her legs, running slowly up her inner thigh. She bit her lip and defiantly closed her legs, squeezing them together. He smirked and clucked his tongue reproachfully. "Is that any way to behave? Open those pretty legs, my lady."

She shook her head, even finding the courage to glare at him. He laughed and forced his hands between her legs, spreading them wide with little visible effort and settling on his stomach between them. His long fingers unbuttoned her pants, pulling down the zipper, then he ripped them away, leaving her in just her panties. He smirked and planted a kiss on the triangle of fabric between her legs, laughing softly when he found that the cloth was slightly damp. "My my, you _are_ enjoying this, aren't you?"

He tore the simple material away, leaving her completely bare to his appreciative eyes. "Lovely…" He looked up at her, noticed how fast her chest rose and fell, how hard her teeth were clamped on her lips, and smirked. His cunning tongue slipped into her, slowly running up her soft folds to find that pleasurable little bud.

Her scream broke two octaves.

He smiled triumphantly and licked her again, swirling his tongue around the little hill. Her legs trembled as pleasure coursed through her, waves slamming into her with every stroke of his tongue.

He groaned, drinking in her taste that nothing in the entire world could compare to. It really was gratifying, how little he had to do to make her scream. She had been so determined not to make a sound, and yet with one simple lick, she had cried out in a loud, wanton voice that he found simply too delicious. It spoke to his pride and his ego; centuries of practice had made him a truly excellent lover.

It was as if her mind and body had been disconnected; the former was screaming at her to get away, to fight him off and run, while the latter was filled with pleasure, forcing her to stay right where she was. She had a feeling that even if she wanted to fight him off, he would prove too strong for her. She panted as his tongue twisted sinuously between her legs, licking a part of her she barely knew about and making her feel pleasure she never knew she could…and she hated every second of it. She didn't want her first time to be like this; she'd wanted love and trust, a pure, clean pleasure and the bliss of sharing yourself completely with someone you truly cared for. But this…

She bit her lip to stifle a sob, having made far too much noise already. Since he'd first made her scream, it seemed she hadn't been able to hold back soft sighs and moans, noises she knew would only encourage him. She didn't want him to think she liked what he was doing, but oh God, it felt so good…too good. The things he could do with his tongue were positively sinful, made her feel as wicked as he. He'd never said precisely what he was, but she knew. When he had grabbed her, she'd seen that his fingernails were black. But unlike hers, his seemed to grow that way, as naturally as her own grew clear. Also, she had seen the mark on the back of his left hand, a purple pentagram that didn't appear to be inked in or colored in any way into his hand; it seemed as though some shimmery violet substance had been embedded beneath his skin. And when his eyes had glowed that poisonous magenta, his pupils becoming malevolent slits, she knew. The man currently raping her (the word left a terrible pain in her heart) was not of this world.

He was a demon.

Her thoughts were interrupted as his lips closed around the tiny mound and he gave a hard suck, causing the hateful pleasure to spike and for another short scream to be wrenched from her throat. Now that he'd loosened her tongue, she was making all sorts of erotic sounds; sighs, moans, whimpers, and the occasional sob. It was like sweet music to his ears. He raised his head, licking his lips. "Delicious, my lady; truly a delicate little treat." He slid his hand up her stomach, between her breasts, and over her chest, stopping when his fingers reached her mouth. "Part your lips, Lyra. It will hurt less if they're wet."

She realized what he was planning to do and shook her head, grabbing his wrist and tearing his hand away from her face. "No…if you put anything in my mouth, I swear I'll bite you."

He smiled. "Oh my…still so fiery. It seems I'll have my hands full with you, young one."

With that, he brought his fingers into his own mouth, dragging his tongue up the slender digits with a devilish smirk, putting on a bit of a show for her. She bared her tiny little teeth in what he guessed was supposed to be an intimidating expression. "You're sick."

He flashed her a grin that teetered on the edge of insanity. "You don't know the half of it."

He finished wetting his fingers and settled down between her legs again. "This will be a bit uncomfortable, but you'll adjust." With that, he pushed one finger into her, kissing her inner thigh to soothe her. She groaned, twisting a little as he softly stroked her inner walls. After a moment, he added another finger, stretching her. She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Hurts…"

"I know, love, but it has to be done. You're still so innocent yet…a sweet little creature; untouched, untasted, unbroken…" He sighed. "If I don't prepare you, this will hurt quite a bit, and I want to be as gentle as possible with you."

She stared at him, hardly believing her ears. He was trying _not_ to hurt her? It didn't seem like something a demon would do, and yet… She yelped as another finger was added, hissing through her teeth at the pain. He seemed to be spreading his fingers inside her, widening her opening.

Finally, he withdrew the intruding digits. "I think that's enough preparation, don't you?" He sat up and unbuttoned his black vest, then slowly popped the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt out of their holes, revealing a pale, smooth, and well-defined chest. Under different circumstances, she would have found him to be very attractive. But as his hands dropped to the waistband of his black pants, she suddenly knew what came next, feeling her heart burst with fear and repressing the sudden urge to vomit. She pushed herself up and curled into a defensive ball at the headboard, sobbing out the word "No!" over and over again.

He gave her a pitying smile and pulled her into his arms, embracing her gently. She pushed against his chest, screaming, "Get away from me! Don't touch me! No! Stop!"

He rolled his eyes; she was quite the little fighter. Yet, as troublesome as she was, her spirit and drive to defend herself created a stir in him that he hadn't felt in quite a while. She exhilarated him, gave his heart a thrill. Every word she spat at him, every shove or slap against his skin was as sweetly satisfying as a piece of fine chocolate.

Eventually, her strength seemed to drain away, and she slumped in his arms, trembling all over. He gently grabbed her chin and pulled her face up. Her cheeks were stained with tears, her eyes bright with pain and anguish, her mouth trembling and drawn with defeat. She had exhausted herself, and now she had given up the fight, knowing the terrible truth that she would never escape. He produced a clean handkerchief and gently dried her face, brushing her quivering lips with his thumb. He leaned forward, pressing her back, laying her down into the pillows. He wedged his knees between her thighs, spreading her legs. She felt the warmth of bare skin against hers; where did his pants go? Something hot and hard pressed at her core, and she let out a weak sob. "No…please…I'm begging you, don't…"

He pressed a finger to her lips, hushing her. "Shhh. A proud young woman like you should never beg." He gave her slight smile. "Put your arms around my neck. I will go slowly, but it will hurt, so you can dig your nails into my back if you'd like."

She bit her lip, wanting to protest but decided against it when she saw his ruby-red eyes flash dangerously. She raised her arms and locked them around his neck. He almost laughed at how tight her hold was, like she was hanging on for dear life. He positioned himself, staring at her hungrily.

"Don't close your eyes, my lady. I want to see them as I take you."

With that, he slowly pushed inside of her, groaning at the feel of her, so deliciously soft and warm and tight, giving him pleasure that he hadn't felt in centuries. He watched her eyes darken with pain, heard her cry out, felt her nails digging into his shoulders. Her muscles were tensed in discomfort, and he leaned down to brush his lips against her ear. "It will only hurt more if you're tense… Just relax, my lady."

Slowly, her eyes full of distrust, she loosened her bunched muscles, making it less difficult for him to ease himself deeper. When he was fully seated, he grew still, watching her and waiting for her rapid heartbeat to slow and her sharp nails to detract. When he felt that she was adjusted enough, he began to rock his hips in a gentle rhythm, not too hard or too fast. He shut his eyes as they began to glow that swirling pinkish-red, grinning as her nails sank into his skin in time with his thrusts, her fingers clenching and unclenching.

He braced himself on his elbows, their chests pressed together, and looked down at her, sweeping lock of hair out of her eyes and studying her closely. She was biting her lip so hard that he could see blood welling up under her teeth. He kissed her, running his tongue across the broken skin. Though he didn't take sustenance from her blood as many believed, he enjoyed the taste immensely. There was pain in her blood, both fresh and old, and it gave the fluid a spicy flavor he found incredibly satisfying. He broke the kiss and smiled, opening his hellish eyes and thrusting deep with a sharp snap of his hips. His grin widened as he heard her gasp and the sudden spike in her heartbeat. He leaned down to kiss her neck, murmuring against her skin. "You feel so good, little one."

He ran his fingers though her silky-soft hair, kissing her throat and quickening his pace. She was quickly approaching the edge, and considering how good she felt and how long it had been for him, he would follow soon after. His stamina, though admirable, wasn't quite what it used to be. He ran his hand up the sweet curve of her calf, pulling her leg up and hitching it around his hip.

She cried out as she buried himself deeper within her, feeling a knot coiling tighter and tighter in her stomach. She had an idea of what was happening, and she wanted it as badly as she didn't want it. She hated that it felt so good, hated him for making it good, hated her body for betraying her. His pace suddenly became frantic, demanding, pushing her closer and closer toward the point of no return. To make matters worse, he bent to kiss her breasts again, his hot tongue lapping at her nipples, adding more pleasure to her poor, overwhelmed nerves. His eyes were still glowing and inhuman, revealing his true nature, and as he felt her tremble, on the brink of her first orgasm, he wrapped one hand around her slender throat and squeezed, not too tightly but enough to get her attention.

"When you climax, say my name. I want to hear you scream it."

She shook her head, defiant to the last, and he tightened his grip on her throat, giving a sharp thrust. She cried out as he bared his teeth, hissing, "Say it!"

She choked. "I d-don't remember…"

He rolled his eyes and whispered his name in her ear, easing his grip a little. "Say it, my lady…"

He snapped his hips once, twice, three more times before he felt her convulse and tighten, clamping down on him. Her face contorted, her hair spread out like a fan as she tossed her head back and forth. "A-Ah! Ah! _Sebastian!_"

At the sound of his name being torn from her lips, he came hard within her, latching his teeth onto her shoulder with a short cry. His self control was normally immaculate, but this young woman had made quite a dent in it.

When he was finished, he rolled off to the side, pulling her against his chest. She was crying again, her tears quiet and broken. He wasn't exhausted yet and wouldn't be for quite some time, but he didn't want to over-exert the poor girl, and she had already used up most of her strength trying to fight him. He smiled and reached down, pulling a worn comforter over them. "Go to sleep, my lady."

She curled up on his chest, muttering sleepily, "I hate you."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "I know you do, Lyra…I know."

Just before she slipped completely into the blissful darkness of sleep, he took her right hand in his and kissed her palm, muttering one word against her skin.

_"Scylcen."_

Immediately, his mark became etched on her skin, glowing a sinful, poisonous red. He smirked, the deed sealed with a kiss, and closed his eyes, letting them return to their more natural color. Demons rarely slept, but he closed his eyes and rested regardless. Answers to the questions he had about her would come tomorrow, and he found that he couldn't wait to learn more about this exquisite young woman. He smirked and ran his hand down her back.

"Sweet dreams, my lady."

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><p><em>*hides in the Box of Shame* This is what goes through my head when I'm bored... Please review!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Just a warning: there are several references to the Christian religion in here. It's a fanfiction about demons, it was kind of inevitable. If you aren't Christian, please understand that I'm not trying to shove that belief down your throat. It's here for character development. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it._

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><p>He rested for a few hours, watching the sun rise out of her window. It was the only thing he missed about the human world, was the sunrises and sunsets. The span of a lifetime in only a few short hours. Somehow, he'd ended up on his back, Lyra lying on top of his chest. He twisted a strand of her hair around his finger, thoroughly enjoying the warm weight of her naked body pressed against his. He smirked and let the strand fall back against the side of her head. He stared at her while she slept, a little bit curious about the expression she wore. Her eyebrows were furrowed just the tiniest bit, as if she were worried about something. Her lips were pressed together, giving a slight quirk every now and then, as if she were trying to smile in her sleep. She had a very innocent look about her even now, when her innocence had been stolen away in a most brutal manner. He smiled at the memory, remembering each brush of skin against skin and every tiny sound she'd made. He took her right hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the mark he'd made on her palm last night. <em>Maybe when you wake, I could have a repeat performance…<em>

He studied her hand, remembering the black fingernails that had been the second thing to catch his attention. They seemed different than his own; hers were shiny, the color seeming almost liquid, whereas his were dull and flat. Another thing that intrigued him about his little captive was her scent. He pressed his nose into her hair and inhaled deeply. Her fragrance was seductive, that was certain. But there still clung to her the scent of a demoness, though admittedly weaker than before. Why was this pure young woman anywhere near a demoness? She obviously wasn't bound by a contract; if she had been, he would not have been able to place his mark on her. Besides, he had touched and tasted every inch of her body the previous night and had seen no such seal on her skin.

Soon, she began to stir, making sleepy little sounds that vividly reminded him of how she had sounded last night. Her hips shifted a little, had he heard her hiss in pain, wincing. "Ow…"

He smirked and slid his hand down her side to curve over her hip. "I hope you'll forgive me for making you sore; my self-control is normally much higher."

She froze and looked up at him, her bright eyes widening and her entire body beginning to shake. "Last night…it wasn't a dream?" Her voice was a scared little whisper, and he grinned, curling one finger under her chin, tilting her face up so he could see it better.

"I'm afraid not. What happened last night was very real." He laughed softly. "If you need further proof, why don't you take a look at your right hand?"

She inspected her trembling hand, her mouth falling open when she saw the baleful red pentagram sealed under her skin. The color was different, but the design matched the mark on the back of his left hand. It seemed for a moment as if she'd stopped breathing…then she launched herself off of him and hurtled toward a small door at the other end of the room, which opened onto a tiny little bathroom. He heard the distinct sounds of vomiting and smiled to himself. "I have to admit, that's probably the first time a woman's done that after waking up next to me."

He got up from the bed and walked over to her, leaning through the doorway. His smile widened as he saw a sleek black cat rubbing its cheek against her hand, meowing softly. It almost looked as though the creature was asking her if she was alright. He leaned against the door frame. "Your cat seems worried about you."

She reached for a paperback book that sat on top of the toilet tank and threw it over her shoulder, weakly aiming at him, choking out, "G-Go away! Leave m-me alone!"

Despite her protests, he knelt down next to her and swept her hair back from her face, pressing a cool hand to her cheek. She ripped away from him, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. He grinned, still crouched on the floor. "Calm down, my lady. You should know by now that I don't intend to hurt you." He leered and looked down at her closed legs. "Well…more than is necessary, anyway."

Her chest was heaving as she scooted away from him, her lower back pressed against the lip of her walk-in shower. Her cat, the sweet little thing, hopped up into her lap and rubbed itself under her chin. Its affection toward her was a spark of sanity in a world that was rapidly crashing down around her, and she held it close, tears stinging her eyes.

He smiled, watching her hold the creature tightly. "She's beautiful, my lady. May I pet her?"

Lyra shook her head, crying out in a hoarse voice, "No! Don't touch him!"

He nodded. "Ah, it's a male. Do forgive me." He held out his hand and made a clicking noise with his tongue. "It's alright, little one. I adore cats."

The animal wriggled out of her grasp and padded over to Sebastian, delicately sniffing his fingers before rubbing its cheek against them, asking to be petted. He smiled and scooped the cat into his arms, stroking it from head to tail. "So sleek and soft… A truly noble creature. What is his name?"

She stared at him dubiously for a moment, then whispered, "It's Ludus…"

He laughs softly. "From the Latin for 'play', I believe? How unconventional." He scratched the cat behind the ears, smiling as it purred. After a moment, he looked up at Lyra who, to his amusement, looked completely bewildered. "Why do you look so shocked, my lady?"

She bit her lip. "He…He hates strangers. I've never seen him be so friendly with someone else."

At the sight of her full underlip being caught between her teeth, gleaming white against soft pink, he felt a wave of desire sweep through him. He smirked and released Ludus, who ran out of the small room and jumped up onto the bed, curling up on her pillow. "I think you'll find that I'm full of surprises, pretty."

He slunk toward her, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and she yelped in fear, crawling backwards and realizing too late that he'd cornered her, trapping her in her shower. He stood, pulling her to her feet, and pinned her against the wall, his hands braced on either side of her head. He drank in her fear and horror, his crimson eyes flashing, and bent down to brush his lips against her neck. He yearned to feel her soft lips pressed to his, but didn't particularly relish the taste of vomit. She needed to wash out her mouth, but oh, he hated the thought of stepping back from her, of not having her warm little body pressed against his. It was then that he saw two knobs on the wall, one labeled with an H, the other with a C. Above them was some sort of spigot, with a bead of water suspended from the broad, flat head. He experimentally twisted the knob marked with a C, and cold water came rushing down, flowing over them. Brilliant.

She squeaked as the frigid water hit her skin, huddling against the wall. Sebastian grabbed her arm and pulled her under the spray. "Wash out your mouth, please."

She wanted to remain defiant and refuse, but the taste coating the inside of her mouth really was vile. Casting a wary glance at him, she opened her mouth to catch some water, swishing it around and spitting it out. She repeated this twice, finally swallowing a mouthful to soothe her aching throat. Once she had finished, she tried to step out of the shower, hoping to dodge him, but his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her against him. "Not so fast, my dear." As he pressed closer to her, she felt how aroused he was becoming and cried out, thrashing and trying to get away.

"No! Please, no! Don't!"

He laughed in her ear, sweeping her damp hair to the side and running his tongue up her neck, licking up beads of water that held the taste of her skin. "I'm afraid that you no longer have a choice, my lady."

He slid his hand down her wet body, curving it between her legs and rubbing gently. She moaned helplessly, despising how good just that one touch felt, his fingers effortlessly finding that knot of nerves and brushing sensual circles around it. She was filled with heat as his lips and tongue caressed the skin of her neck, but the icy water beating down on her chest made her shiver. How was it possible to feel so cold and so hot at the same time?

His senses fogged in a haze of lust, he barely noticed as she began trembling, but his attention was drawn back to her when he heard her teeth chattering. He frowned; this wouldn't do. He so desperately loved seeing her dripping wet, clear water running down her beautiful body, her flawless skin glistening…but he didn't want her to catch a chill. He looked at the knobs again, eyes narrowed for an instant, then smiling as he reached out to twist the knob marked with an H. He heard her sigh of relief as warm water replaced the cold, ridding her skin of the chills she'd felt. He kissed her ear. "Better, my lady?"

She didn't respond, and he cupped his hand around her throat, squeezing gently. "I like my questions answered, little one. Or did you prefer the cold water?"

She shook her head, mumbling, "This is better…"

"Good." He removed his hand from her throat and slid it down her chest to cup her breast, his palm pressed over a diamond-hard nipple. She moaned as his other hand started rubbing her again, the pressure slightly harder. She was beginning to shake, though not from a chill this time. His fingers brushed her nipple, mimicking the circular motion of the hand between her legs. She bit her lip, whining softly as he pleasured her, hating herself almost as much as she hated him. Something was working its way to her front of her mind, something important. Slowly, slowly it dawned on her.

"Sebastian…!"

She wasn't sure whether he mistook her panic for passion or if he was just ignoring her tone, but as she said his name, he groaned and pushed a finger into her. She cried out in pain; she was still quite sore down there from last night, and even his slender finger made her ache. He ran his tongue over the shell of her ear. "Say my name again…"

"No, Sebastian, please! Listen to me! I have to know what time it is!"

He was caught off-guard by the question, his hands growing still. "That's a rather odd request, little one. Why is the time important?"

"I-I have to go to work…and my car's being delivered at two…"

He had to admit, she had taken him by surprise. The fact that she was able to think rationally at a time like this impressed him, as well as the fact that a woman her age had a job and could drive a car. This was certainly not the norm the last time he'd been in the mortal plane. He smiled and darted out of the shower to glance at the clock on her bedroom wall, slipping back in and wrapping his arms around her before she'd registered that he'd left. "It's 1:36, my lady."

She struggled in his grasp. "The towing company…they'll be here soon…please, Sebastian."

The desperation and pleading tone of her voice sent a sure of need straight to his groin, and he grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around and pushing her against the wall. The hot water flowed down his back, tiny rivulets running down to where their chests were pressed together. He smirked. "Then I'll have to make this quick, won't I?"

With no time left for teasing or preparation, he gripped her hips and pushed into her, growling softly as she screamed. He thrust into her again and again, setting a fast, merciless pace that had her shrieking with mingled pain and pleasure. His hand slid up her side to curve over one breast, his thumb brushing the taut little bud in quick circles. He pressed his cheek to hers, his lips at her ear as he made soft noises of lust and desire; he could feel her hot breath against his neck as she panted and moaned. Tears ran down her cheeks, indistinguishable from the drops of water from the shower that spattered her face. The object embedded in her didn't feel like flesh anymore, but like the blade of a hot knife, burning her and tearing her apart from the inside…and God help her, it felt good.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging on as she felt her feet slipping on the wet floor, digging her nails into his shoulders. She felt the strange, vicious desire to cause him pain, to hear him hiss, show him just exactly how much he was hurting her. She scratched deep furrows in his back, wanting to draw blood; she didn't even know if he could bleed, but she wanted to find out. Her cries grew louder, the poor girl nearing her end.

Sebastian growled softly as the hot water made the long red scratches on his back sting, but it only fueled his desire, driving his hips forward with added vigor. A few moments later, her screams rose in pitch, echoing around them like a siren call. He bit down on her shoulder as she spiraled toward her climax, growling at her to say his name. When she didn't, he ground his teeth into her skin. That fresh wave of pain finally forced his name from her lips, a sharp thrust wrenching her body in spasms of pleasure. _"Sebastian!"_

She stood panting against the wall, riding out the aftershocks of her orgasm as he continued to pound into her, making her hiss in pain, sobbing, "Stop…please…it hurts…"

Thankfully, his orgasm came soon, and he gave a loud groan, pressing himself against her warm body and breathing heavily. He kissed her cheek with a smile, then reached back and turned off the water. There was a towel hanging on a hook next to the sink, and he grabbed it and started carefully drying her off. To his amusement, she snatched the towel from his hands and wrapped it around herself, hobbling out of the bathroom, wincing whenever her hips and legs swung forward. He smiled as her movement disturbed the clouds of steam that had risen up in soft fog around them. He walked out into her bedroom, where she sat on her bed facing away from him amidst rumpled sheets and combed her hair out. He watched as beads of water dripped from her hair and rolled down her smooth, soft back. He wanted to pin her facedown on the mattress and lick the water off her skin, but he restrained himself. They had time…

Suddenly, the silence of the room was penetrated by mechanical, tinny music. He recognized the tune; Beethoven's "Ode to Joy." But where was it coming from? Lyra reached over and picked up a small object on her bedside table; it was glowing and seemed to be the source of the noise. The numbers on it looked familiar…a telephone with no wires? As if to confirm his theory, she pressed a button on the device and held it up to her ear.

"Hello? Yes, it is. Oh, okay. Yeah, I'll be out in just a minute. Uh-huh, thank you. Bye-bye."

He laughed to himself; she was quite the little actress. One would never guess from her voice alone the amount of trauma she had been through in such a short while. She stood and began to throw on clothes, pulling her hair into a hasty ponytail. He smiled, content to watch her move about the dim room. Finally, after pulling on what appeared to be a man's short-sleeved shirt, she caught his stare, narrowing her eyes at him. "What?"

He didn't answer her question, but instead smiled and asked one of his own. "That was the towing company, I presume?"

She nodded, still staring at him. He could almost see the proverbial wheels turning in her head, could see ideas and plans forming behind her eyes. "I just need to go out and get my key. I'll be right back."

He laughed as she made for the door, still limping. "You do realize that the mark I've placed on you doesn't allow you to run away from me?"

She stopped dead in her tracks, frozen in place by his words. She knew he could be lying, but she was convinced that he wasn't. He continued, "It also prevents you from speaking to anyone about me or what I've done to you. You cannot tell them in words or in writing. You cannot seek the aid of another, and you cannot run." He gave her a cruel smile. "You cannot escape."

He heard what sounded like a choked sob, then watched with a smirk as she tried to open the door that was still sealed. He lifted the spell momentarily, watching as she wrenched the door open and stormed out into the chilly sunlight. He picked up her towel, hanging it up in the bathroom to dry before pulling on his black pants and white shirt, leaving the first two buttons undone. He stepped out into the bright afternoon, his pupils contracting, and smiled when he saw her standing barefoot in front of a man wearing a filthy, ripped shirt and a strange pair of coarse blue trousers, also torn and stained. Her fists were clenched, her teeth grinding together as she tried unsuccessfully to choke out a plea for help. He came up and put his arm around her waist, pulling her against his side. "You'll have to forgive her. She has trouble speaking sometimes."

The man shot her a strange look, then handed Sebastian a key. He spoke, his voice rough and accented in a strange way that grated against Sebastian's nerves. "It should run just fine now, but y'all can go ahead and call us if it gives you any more trouble."

"Certainly. Thank you."

The man gave the odd couple another strange, scrutinizing look before walking back to his truck and driving off. Sebastian turned and steered Lyra back into her apartment, smirking as she made small noises of pain. He was tempted to carry her there, but thought she would kick up too much of a fuss. Once they were back inside with the door shut and the seal in place, he released her. He had to admit, he was not expecting the sting of her palm against his cheek as she slapped him. Her voice was venomous as she hissed, "Just what the fuck did you do to me, you bastard?"

He frowned at her. "Please watch your language, Lyra. Such vulgarities aren't proper for a young lady." His lips quirked in a merciless little smile. "As for what I've done to you, please allow me to explain." She glared dangerously, but was silent. He took her right hand in his and traced the design on her palm with the tip of one finger. "This mark is my claim to you. Because of it, you are mine. You are now what we call a _scylcen_, which roughly translated, means 'female bed slave.'" He smirked. "I have been permitted one year away from my duties to satisfy my appetites, including those of a sexual nature. And to slake my lust, I have chosen you. You will the only one I take into my bed, whenever and wherever I wish."

She interrupted him. "I thought demons were promiscuous?"

He smiled. "We can be. However, when overtaken by _mæccea_-what you would call a 'heat'-we choose one partner, usually a human, but sometimes a demon, if that is what we crave. Demons, of course, can't be marked by other demons, but to make sure that the human we choose doesn't escape, we place our seals on them, binding them to us until we choose to set them free, or they make a contract."

"A contract?"

His smile grew, his lips parting. "A contract is a deal made between a human and a demon. The human makes a wish, and the demon serves that human until their wish is fulfilled." He stepped closer, taking her chin in his hand. "Then, the demon is free to devour that person's soul."

She clenched her teeth, fighting back the sour taste that rose in her throat. "I-Is that…what you're going to do to me? Eat my soul?"

He shook his head, giving her a condescending smile. "I'm afraid that once a woman has been made a _scylcen_, no demon can consume her soul, not even the one who marked her. The only way I could get your soul now is if you made a contract with me." He picked up her right hand again and kissed her palm. "The mark would then turn colors to match mine, and you would no longer be my bed slave. I would be bound to obey every command you gave, no matter the nature or circumstances; except, of course, if doing so would put your life in danger."

She raised an eyebrow. "What if I don't? You said you can only stay here for a year. When that year runs out, what happens then?"

He stroked her cheek with a curled finger. "Most demons would lift their mark, setting their human free. But in your case, I'm afraid I've become rather enamored with you." His smile grew predatory, and she felt the hot clenching of fear in her stomach. "Should you refuse to make a contract with me, I will refuse to lift my seal, so that when I return to Hell, you'll be dragged there with me. There you will remain until Time winds to a stop, still alive and still pure of heart." He ran a cold finger down her neck. "Do you know what being in Hell does to a pure heart? You'll be driven insane merely from the sight. And the pain you feel when I enter you? It will be magnified a hundredfold." He stroked a lock of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. "The easiest and least painful path would be, of course, to make a contract with me. Your soul would then rest within me, knowing nothing but soothing darkness. No pain, no sadness, no suffering. Sounds rather peaceful, don't you think, my lady?"

She tore away from him and curled up on her battered loveseat, as if trying to hide from him. "No…no, I can't. I won't."

He smiled and sat beside her. "Why ever not? Would you rather suffer in endless agony for the rest of eternity?"'

To his surprise, she nodded. "Yes. I'm a Christian, and my soul belongs to God. I will _never_ surrender it willingly to a demon, even to save myself." She pulled a set of keys out of her pocket, her fingers gripping a charm that dangled and jingled merrily. It was designed to look like two folded angel wings in the shape of a heart, and nestled between where the shoulder joints would be was an iridescent stone, similar in color to mother of pearl, but with a faceted cut. She rubbed her thumb over the back of it, where the words _"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saves a wretch like me" _had been etched into the metal She glanced back up at him, her eyes hard with resolve. "Do whatever you want to me; rape me, torture me, kill me, drag me to Hell. I have faith in my God, and I know He won't abandon me." A triumphant little smile curled on her lips. "He'll save me from you."

It surprised her how at ease he seemed with her declaration, as if he didn't take her seriously. "How interesting. Are you Catholic? I thought you were at first, since you were wearing a rosary around that pretty neck last night, but I haven't seen any other trinkets of that sort around here."

She blushed. "No, I'm Protestant. Methodist, to be precise."

"Ah, the Methodists. If I remember correctly, that denomination sprang up in America not long after the Revolutionary War…some fellow named Wesley and his brother?"

Stunned, she nodded. "Yeah, John and Charles Wesley… How did you…?"

"When one has lived for as long as I have, one tends to hear a few things." He cocked his head to the side, tapping a finger against his chin. "I wonder; if you're Protestant, why were you wearing a rosary? Surely a simple cross would have sufficed?"

Her blush deepened. "I wore it for the symbolism…it made me feel closer to God."

He nodded, a smirk playing across his lips. His eyes were drawn down to her shapely hands, her thumb still rubbing across the back of that charm, and bounced back up to capture her gaze. "My lady, may I ask why your fingernails are black?"

"Huh?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why is that important to you?"

He smiled and held up his own hand. "One of the physical marks of a demon is that our fingernails grow black. It was one of the things that attracted me to you. I was simply wondering why a human would be sporting such a demonic trait."

She blinked. "I…I painted them."

His eyebrows furrowed. "You paint your fingernails?"

She rolled her eyes and reached down to open a little cabinet that was built in underneath her coffee table, pulling out two bottles and a tissue. The first bottle held an aqua liquid that released a strong chemical smell when the lid was unscrewed. She poured a few drops onto the tissue and rubbed it against the nail of her left index finger. When that was done, she held out her hand to show him the fingernail completely devoid of color, as normal as if the black had never existed. She then opened the smaller bottle, whose lid had a tiny brush attached to it, dripping a thick black fluid. Cautiously, she brushed the liquid color over her fingernail, repainting it black. When she was finished with her little demonstration, Sebastian smiled. "I see. But why do you paint them black?"

Lyra blushed again. "I-I just like the color. I like the way it looks on my hands."

He smirked. "Indeed." He took her right hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing her fingertips, ignoring her attempts to pull it from his grasp. She stifled a gasp as he slowly rubbed the tip of his tongue against the sensitive pads of her fingers, teasing and tasting her.

"Th-That's disgusting. Stop it."

He laughed softly and dropped her hand. "I do apologize, but you see, I find you quite irresistible. Which brings me to another question I'd like you to answer for me." His face became quite serious. "Last night, what drew me to you was your scent, because you smelled very much like a demoness. More specifically, like a demoness in the midst of _mæccea_." He gave her a hard look. "I would like to know why you smelled that way."

She blinked. "I…I did?" Almost without thinking about it, she crossed her arms over her chest, as if trying to hold herself together. "I can assure you, I haven't been around any demons lately." She glared at him. "At least, not of my own free will."

He chuckled. "Well, it's very possible that someone you know and spend time with is a demon…we're more common than you might think." His ruby-red eyes narrowed dangerously. "Nevertheless, I will be keeping a close watch on you from now on, at least until I find out who it is that's been getting that close to you. Now that you carry my scent, others will want to claim you." She might have imagined the possessive growl that rumbled low in his throat, but probably not. "I won't allow anyone to steal away what belongs to me." Something hung in the air, two words that were kept silent but she could still feel lingering around them, could almost see them in his eyes and in the slight clench of his fists.

_Not again._

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><p><em>Bad ending is bad. Also, I neglected to translate the two words <strong><em>mæccea <em>**_and **scylcen** in the last chapter...sorry about that. Those words aren't made up; I'm not quite that creative. It's actually Old English, and my reason for using that instead of Latin is because...well...everybody uses Latin nowadays. I wanted to be a little less conventional. __

__**_mæccea_**: "mate"__

__**scylcen**: "female slave, concubine"__

__Please review, I love to hear from you! :)__


	3. Chapter 3

_This is dedicated to my dear friend and sister-from-another-mister **SangNoire**, whose birthday is today! She's been a great help and source of support for me, and she was the first person to ever read and critique this story. So, my dear, this is for you. Happy Birthday, and many happy returns!_

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><p>She watched in terror as a faint aura began to appear around him, like a jet-black cloud streaked with blazes of a putrid blue-green. His eyes glowed dangerously, though his face remained an unexpressive mask. Lyra curled up tighter against the arm of the couch, wishing she could just disappear, wishing that she could leave this body behind and go be someone else. It was all too easy to be taken in by the mask of gentility and politeness he used to interact with humans undetected, but she was unfortunate enough to have seen a glimpse of the monster behind the glamour, and there was no going back. She found herself praying silently, fervently, repeating the same two words over and over again. <em>Please, God. Please, God. Please, God. Please, God.<em>

Her prayers were interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and looked up to see Sebastian gently smiling at her, appearing all too human. "Please forgive me for frightening you, Lyra. My control slipped, but I assure you, it won't happen again." His thumb rubbed soothing circles on her collarbone, and she burst into tears. It felt childish to cry like this, but she was confused, scared, and angry to care.

"Why me? Why did you choose me?"  
>He smiled and leaned toward her. She cringed away, but was surprised to feel him gently pulling her onto his lap. She struggled against the embrace, but his hold was too strong, and she forced herself to relax. "It could easily have been someone else, my lady… I suppose you were just in the right place at the right time. Or rather," she felt the soft chuckle rumble in his chest, "the right place at the wrong time."<p>

She closed her eyes, tears seeping out from under her eyelashes and staining a patch of his white shirt. She'd known hurt, and she'd known despair, but never like this; it was as if her heart had stopped beating but through some evil magic trick, she continued to live. What pained her the most was that if she imagined that last night never happened, that the mark on her hand didn't exist, and the person holding her wasn't a demon who had snatched her innocence away, it would almost feel…_nice_. Being in someone's arms like this. Lord knows she'd dreamed about it enough, but now that she was being held in a gentle embrace, she found that it was the last thing she wanted. That more than anything broke her heart.

She stayed on his lap, too drained to struggle out of his embrace but too afraid to doze off. After a while, she glanced up at the clock. Half past three; her shift began in an hour and a half. She wrestled her way out of his arms, standing shakily and blinking to clear her eyes. She needed to be strong now; crying and other forms of weakness couldn't be allowed. "I need to take a proper shower…by myself."

He laughed. "Where's the fun in that, my lady?"

"Sebastian, please…"

He didn't miss the soft plea in her voice. "Alright. You have my word that I will let you bathe alone." He smiled as she scurried back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. With an otherworldly grace, he rose to his feet and walked back into her bedroom, watching steam seep out from under the bathroom door. Just out of curiosity, he tested the handle and found it locked. He smiled to himself; as if a locked door would be able to keep him out of he wished to enter. But he was a man of his word, and he would allow his little prize her privacy, for the time being.

Instead, he busied himself with examining her home. She kept her living space very neat; the floors swept, the furniture dusted, and her belongings stored and organized. The only messy thing he could find was the bed with its rumpled sheets and flat pillows; he supposed the blame for that fell on him. He smiled and made her bed, inhaling the scent of her skin and hair on the fabric.

Something brushed against his ankle, and he looked down to see Ludus rubbing against his leg, purring. He smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, lifting the charming little creature up into his arms. The cat snuggled up against his chest, so very soft and warm. Sebastian contented himself with slowly stroking the shiny black fur. It amused him that a young woman that was so innocent and pure would have such an attachment to the color black.

After a while, the door opened and Lyra walked out, skin pink from the heat of the water and a towel wrapped around her body. She stared at the scene; a demon sitting on her newly made bed and cuddling with her cat. She narrowed her eyes at Ludus and muttered, "Traitor," ignoring Sebastian's quiet chuckle. She combed out her wet hair then stepped back into the bathroom, picking up some strange device that whirred and emitted a strong gust of hot wind. He smiled when he realized she was using it to dry her hair, watching the strands go from almost black to shiny chestnut threaded with auburn. It looked so irresistibly soft, but he left her alone as she scurried about her bedroom, watching her as she dressed. It still shocked him a little to see the outlandish and downright indecent clothes she wore.

"If I may be so bold, my lady, why do you dress like that?"

"Huh?" She looked down at her outfit; sneakers, a pair of dark jeans, a pink and black leopard-print halter top, and a black jacket. "This is what I normally wear to work."

"You're expected to wear men's trousers and flaunt half of your bosom? Just what exactly do you do for a living?" He arched an eyebrow, only half-teasing.

A crimson stain bloomed on her cheeks. "People are a lot more comfortable with their bodies nowadays, and they don't mind showing it off. And it isn't practical for me to wear a skirt to work. The last time I did, I got in trouble." She dug her fingers into a small box filled with cheap jewelry. "And for your information, I work as a cashier at a gas station."

"Gas station?"

She hid her face in her hand. "Oh God, that's right, you're British…y'know, petrol? A filling station for cars?"

Sebastian nodded. "I see." He continued to watch in silence as she adorned herself with jewelry; a necklace that had three charms dangling from it, heart-shaped earrings that swung merrily from her earlobes, three silver bracelets on her left wrist, and one tarnished silver bracelet on her right wrist. He noticed that it had lettering on it, and he grabbed her arm, fingering the little silver plate that had the words, "You are my sunshine," inscribed on it.

"'You are my sunshine.' How sweet. Who gave this to you?" His tone was pleasant enough, but his eyes flashed threateningly. If another man tried to stake a claim on his new bedmate, there would be hell to pay.

She pulled her hand away. "I bought it for myself. It's from a song that has a special meaning to me." Her eyes fell to the bracelet, voice growing softer as she allowed herself to remember. "My mom would always sing it to me when I was sad or afraid. Sometimes she still does."

"How charming." He smirked and leaned back on his hands, letting Ludus slink out of his lap. "May I hear it?"

Lyra blushed to the roots of her hair; she didn't like singing in front of other people, but she didn't think he was really giving her a choice. "U-Uh…I guess." She cleared her throat and closed her eyes, not wanting to have Sebastian associated with this song. _"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away. The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken. So I hung my head and cried. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."_

He smiled as she finished. "You have a lovely voice, my lady. I'll have to remember to have you sing for me more often." His grin widened as she ducked her head (no doubt to hide another blush), and retreated back into the bathroom, picking up what looked like a pencil and outlining her eyes in black before brushing some black substance onto her eyelashes. The treatment made her eyes look bigger and more vivid, and he frowned. He'd never liked it when women wore makeup; he thought it detracted from their natural beauty. As she finished, he curved his hands around her hips, pulling her back against his body. "Is it really necessary for you to paint yourself? You certainly don't need to." He lightly nuzzled her neck, running the tip of his nose up and down the pulsing vein.

"I-It's just part of my job…the nicer I look, the nicer I'm treated."

He smirked against her skin, his lips pressed to her throat, and slid one hand inside her shirt, slowing inching his way up her stomach. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, weakly swatting at him. "S-Stop it…don't…."

He hushed her, glancing up at their reflection in the mirror; he rather liked the way his bared teeth looked next to her throat. His eyes narrowed in sinful pleasure as he darted his tongue out to taste the skin behind her ear, tracking the progress of his hand as it slid up to curve over her breast. He groaned in her ear as his fingers grasped the cup of her bra and pulled it down, his hand making contact with bare flesh. He nibbled gently at her earlobe while he softly rubbed circles around her nipple, smirking whenever he brushed the taut bud and caused her to whine quietly.

"Sebastian…please…I c-can't…"

He sighed against her skin; he supposed he had to commend her for her focus when he was trying his best to seduce her. His little bedwarmer was adamant about showing up at her job, and he couldn't really fault her for that. With a soft kiss to the back of her neck, he removed his hands and stepped back, allowing her to exit the bathroom. He noticed with a surge of smug pride that she was flushed and panting, obviously aroused by his attentions. She adjusted her bra and looked up at the clock. A whispered oath passed her lips, and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Will you promise not to destroy this place while I'm gone?"

He chuckled. "That will be quite impossible; I'm coming with you, of course."

"What?"

"My lady, the mark I've placed on you doesn't allow to go any farther than a few meters from my side, remember? If I didn't accompany you, you wouldn't be able to leave."

She rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. "And just how am I supposed to explain who you are and why you're following me around?"

Playfully, he tapped the end of her nose with his finger. "Now, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. After all, what kind of lover would I be if I didn't?" He smirked as if he had just told an inside joke, then stroked the tips of his fingers across her cheek, his touch as light as spider's silk. She shuddered and turned away, grabbing her phone off the top of her dresser. Something red flashed at the edge of her vision, and she stopped cold; her mark. How on earth was she going to hide it? Sebastian had placed the seal in a place that was very visible but not easy to conceal; after all, she had to use her hands a lot at work. It was obvious that the design wasn't a tattoo by the way the color shifted and almost seemed to glow, so keeping it in plain sight wasn't an option. She bit her lip, thinking it over, then reached into the top drawer of her dresser and removed a pair of black Spandex gloves with the fingers cut off. It would look rather strange to wear them indoors, but she would rather look a little strange than have someone see the seal.

Without a second glance back, she walked out of her apartment and into the dying sunlight. The door locked automatically behind her; one of the benefits from living in an apartment complex in the bad part of town was that the security was better. She knew Sebastian was following her, could feel his dark presence, and she rolled her eyes a bit as she got into her car, feeling him settle into the passenger seat beside her. She backed out and pulled out of the parking lot, and once they were on the road, he said casually, "Tell me about yourself."

She raised an eyebrow dubiously. "Why?"

He smiled. "Because I'd like to know the woman I'm sleeping with."

Resisting the urge to grit her teeth and slam her head into the steering wheel, she sighed and started with the basics in a flat monotone. "My full name is Lyra St. John. I'm twenty years old. I have four brothers, three older and one younger. My mother lives here in town and works at the college. My dad passed away from a disease two years ago."

"I'm sorry-"

"Shut up."

He smiled and let her continue. "I like dark colors, but my favorite is purple. I used to be in college as a creative writing major, but I flunked out and I don't have enough money to go back. When I do get my degree, I want to go to seminary in Baltimore, get ordained, and become a campus minister." She shot him a glance, but continued. "I have two best friends, but both of them live out of town. I like to write, but I've never published anything. I'm an animal lover, and I have another cat and a dog that live with my mom. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

He crossed his arms. "I think that will do for now. The rest will come with time." A smirk crept across his face. "Sing for me."

"Is that an order or a request?"

"Mm. Both."

She muttered something that sounded like, _"Bossy,"_ before wrinkling up her nose, no doubt choosing a song to perform for him. Within a few moments, she began to sing in a clear, harmonious voice.

_"You say 'Look outside, rain is pouring down. Let's stay and hide.'"_ He smiled as she reached the chorus. _"Maybe we will be everything we say. Maybe all that we dream will fade to gray. Either way, I will stay with you."_

He applauded lightly as she finished. "Quite lovely, though a little too romantic for my taste."

"You like sad songs, then?"

"Yes, actually. They have a certain creaminess to them that more joyful songs do not."

"Hm." She pulled into the parking lot of the gas station where she was employed, turned off her car, and looked at him expectantly. "Well? I'm waiting for that magic trick."

He smirked. "Alright. Keep still." Suddenly, Sebastian seemed to be dissolving into a black mist that swirled lazily in the space above the passenger seat. Suddenly, the mist swooped over her, _into_ her; it sank through her pores and streamed in through her mouth and nose. In an instant, it was over, and she found herself to be apparently alone. Tentatively, hardly daring to hope, she whispered his name.

"Sebastian…?"

_I'm right here, my lady._

She gasped; his voice sounded as if he were standing inside her skull. "Where's here?"

_I think you know._

"You're…in my head?"

_That's one way of putting it, I suppose._

She felt a strange, tingling heat bloom behind her eyes, in her throat, and in her chest. She gasped and clutched at her heart. "W-What…?"

_Because I've made you mine, I can infiltrate your mind._ The tingle behind her eyes intensified. _Your heart._ The burn in her chest grew. _And your soul._ It almost felt as if he'd strummed her vocal cords like guitar strings. _I believe you humans refer to this as a "demon possession."_

She panted a little as the warmth faded. "You can't…control my actions, can you?"

She felt him smirk in response, then suddenly her hand moved of its own accord; or at least, she wasn't the one giving the command. It rose into the air, turning over and flexing its fingers. The disobedient limb felt strangely numb, like it had fallen asleep but without the pins-and-needles sensation.

_I could control your entire body if I wanted to._

The idea both frightened and angered her; he could do a lot of harm if he could take control of her body from the inside out. "If you make me touch myself or something while I'm working-"

_Now there's an interesting thought._

"Sebastian, I'm serious!"

He laughed. _Calm down, my lady. I'll wait until you're safely back in your own home before I ravish you again._

Lyra shivered at the thought, then gathered herself and got out of her car, walking into the store and getting immediately to work. It surprised her just how much more enjoyable her menial tasks seemed to be; they were normal, safe. The calmness of a familiar routine was a comfort to her. Even taking out the outside trash, a chore she despised, seemed almost fun. After changing the bags, she tied the tops of the full ones and lifted them with a strained sound; how could empty cups and bottles be so heavy? She wrinkled her nose as she walked, not particularly savoring the odor of cold coffee, rotting food, and car grease. Her arms began to burn with the strain of carrying the bags, and she gritted her teeth, repeating a mantra over and over under her breath, almost like a prayer. "You can do this. You can do this. You can do this."

_My lady, please allow me to carry those for you._

"What? Why?" She stopped, setting the bags on the ground.

_Because, if you'll forgive me, I'm quite a bit stronger than you. Besides, this task is much too unsavory for a young lady._

She set her jaw and picked up the bags again, walking determinedly toward the green metal bin. "Don't underestimate me, Sebastian; I'm stronger than you think."

He decided to let her carry them, watching with impressed amusement as she lifted the heavy bags that were leaking some muddy, sticky fluid into the giant bin. He had to suppress a laugh as he saw the victorious expression on her felt and felt her surge of triumph.

The rest of the night went by fairly smoothly; the customers were steady, but she managed to stay ahead of schedule with her work. For the most part, Sebastian was content to watch her, smiling as she greeted the customers; she looked genuinely happy to see them. Perhaps she was a better actress than he had originally thought, or maybe she just relished the human contact.

Only once did the demon interfere. He noticed that most of the male customer's eyes dropped to Lyra's chest when she wasn't looking, and he found it extremely annoying that these men would dare to cast their eyes on what wasn't theirs. One man in particular, an older gentleman with long silvery-gray hair and a scruffy beard barely raised his eyes at all. When she handed him his change and his cigarettes, the man winked at her and said, "Thank you so much, baby."

Sebastian snarled.

Lyra raised a hand to her suddenly pounding head with a pained yelp. The man reached for her, asking if she was alright, but Sebastian took control of her arm and swatted the man's hand away. No one was allowed to touch what belonged to him-_no one_.

She gasped, "I'm sorry, just a headache. I'll be fine." As soon as the man was gone, the stabbing pain faded. Her eyes darted around the store to make sure it was empty before she muttered, "Sebastian, what the hell was that?"

_I don't like the way he looked at you._

"Who, Nate? He always does that, he's harmless!" She closed her eyes, rubbing the residual ache from her temples. "That's still no reason to hurt me like that. It's not like it was my fault."

_Forgive me, my lady, but it seems my anger momentarily got the better of me. Humans can't handle demons in their true form, and I'm afraid my aura is even more potent since I've entered your mind. _

She cradled her head in her hand. "Please, Sebastian, I can't freak out like that in front of customers. Try to control yourself."

_My lady, I _was_ controlling myself. If I hadn't been, that man would be dead._

She shivered, but composed herself as another customer walked in, pasting a bright smile on her face. "Hello!"

As the night wound down and fewer and fewer customers came in, she sat at a small table toward the back of the store, pretending to read but muttering to Sebastian under her breath.

"So what about you? What's your story?"

He sounded amused. _My, what has you so curious all of a sudden?_

"I'm bored," she snapped. "And maybe I want to know the man in my head a little better. After all, it doesn't look like you're going away anytime soon."

_That's true._ He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. _My full name is Sebastian Michaelis, a title given to me by my master, Ciel, Earl of Phantomhive._

"Your master?" She arched an eyebrow. "You don't seem like the type to answer to anyone else."

_Normally, I'm not._ His tone was amused. _But over a hundred and fifty years ago, when Lord Phantomhive was ten, he entered into a contract with me._

"You made a child sell his soul to you?"

_I did not make him do anything. He summoned me to his side and offered his soul to me in exchange for the deaths of those who killed his parents._

"That's awful…"

He smiled as he felt her heart twinge with sadness for a boy she had never met. _The Phantomhives were in charge of policing England's seedy underground, earning them the nickname, "The Queen's guard dogs." While dealing with an urgent matter, my lord discovered the person responsible for the murder of his parents. Oddly enough, it was an angel who believed his mother and father to be "impure."_

"An angel killed his parents?" Her tone was dubious.

_Is it hard to believe that even the holiest of beings can fall from grace?_

"It just seems like secular propaganda to me."

_So suspicious…_

When she didn't answer, he continued with his story. _After I killed the angel-_he smirked at her barely concealed gasp-_I was free to devour my master's soul. However, his soul was stolen by another demon in a moment of vulnerability. I strove to get it back, but before I could succeed, Ciel Phantomhive was turned into a demon. Since he commanded me to remain his butler until I swallowed his soul, and since I could no longer do so, I will remain his butler for eternity._

She was silent for a moment, absorbing what he said. "Turned into…? But how-?"

_It's a long story, my lady, and I believe you have another customer._

It seemed that closing time came all too soon, and dread ate away at her insides as she locked up and walked back to her car. She could almost feel Sebastian's lewd thoughts crawling over her skin as she was closing, knowing that he had promised to "ravish" her when she got home. As sore as she was, and as much as she was coming to hate sex, she was really not looking forward to what he had in store for her.

The minute she was inside her car, the same black mist that had seeped into her before flew out the same way, flying into the passenger seat and materializing as a very solid Sebastian. She shivered.

"God, that's creepy."

He smirked, but said nothing as she pulled out. About a block away from the store, she felt something slide onto her thigh, moving upwards and inwards. She squeaked and slapped at him. "No way! Hands off while I'm driving!"

His voice was low and seductive as he leaned over to murmur in her ear. "You really should learn to search for some excitement in your life, pet." He nibbled gently on her earlobe, his fingers massaging her thigh.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" She swatted at his hand again. "Stop! If you keep distracting me while I'm driving, I'll end up wrapping this thing around a tree!"

He chuckled softly, his breath stirring a few wispy strands of hair. "Well, we wouldn't want that." He sat back in the seat, but she could still feel his stare crawling all over her; she'd never understood what it meant to be "undressed with your eyes," until now.

She wasn't sure if she was more relieved or frightened when she finally pulled in to her apartment complex. She tried not to look at him or acknowledge his presence as she unlocked her door and stepped inside, heading straight into her tiny kitchen. It had been over twenty-four hours since she'd eaten anything, and though she had almost no appetite at all, she needed to eat something or she would pass out; besides, it would give her something to do other than interact with him. She heated some water in a pan, standing over the stove and waiting for it to boil, then opened a packet of instant mashed potato flakes, dumping the contents unceremoniously into a plastic bowl and adding the water, stirring until the mixture thickened. Not the most elegant meal, but it was satisfyingly bland and would fill her up well enough.

The entire time she was at the stove, she felt Sebastian's patient eyes constantly on her. Lyra determinedly avoided his gaze, refusing to look back or even recognize that he was in the room, but as she picked up her bowl and went to sit on her loveseat to eat, he suddenly took up residence on the second cushion, smiling innocently. She sighed, not wanting to sit next to him, but refusing to retreat. Besides, the only other place she could go to sit and eat was her bedroom, and she knew that he would follow her in there as well; it would be the same as giving him an invitation. She turned her back to him and picked up a book from the coffee table, turning to the marked page and reading as she ate.

Suddenly, she felt something brushing against the back of her neck; his lips, she realized. She stubbornly continued to eat, her eyes glued to her book but unable to comprehend the printed words. His nimble fingers unhooked her necklace and gently lifted it away from her skin, setting it on the table. A frustrated sigh passed her lips as he curved a hand around her throat, pulling her back slightly so that he could let his lips track down over her pulse. "You are making this kind of difficult."

He laughed softly in response, but said nothing. She shivered as his tongue came out to trace a line up her neck and behind her ear, his teeth catching her earring and tugging on it gently.

"Can't you at least wait until I'm finished?"  
>"I'm afraid I can't."<p>

She set her book down, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Sebastian, please. I can't. I hurts so much…" She hated herself for how pathetic she sounded, but she really couldn't handle another round of rough sex.

"There are other ways, my lady."

She scowled. "I'm not giving you a blowjob, if that's what you're suggesting."

"A what?"

She blushed. "Y'know…"

"Obviously not."

"It's a slang term for…" She swallowed and forced the word out. "F-Fellatio."

"I see."

She hid her face in her hands. "I'm not letting you put anything in my mouth."

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Then what-eep!"

She squeaked as he lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, lying her down on the bed. His eyes smoldered as he crawled over her. "Just relax, little one," he purred.

"What are you doing?" She pushed against his shoulders, eyeing him warily.

"Will you trust me to give you pleasure and not to hurt you?"

"Why should I? All you've done so far is hurt me."

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you hate me, Lyra?"

His question took her by surprise. "Why do you care how I feel about you?"

"Answer my question."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes. I hate you. I hate you for what you are, and for what you've done to me. I'll always hate you, Sebastian."

Even though he would have known if she was lying, she half-expected him to snarl at her for her honesty, to pin her down and rape her again, but instead she felt the gentle brush of lips at her ear. "That's my girl," he whispered. She felt the warmth of his hand pressed over her stomach, knowing at any second he would shove it under her shirt…yet it stayed right where it was, his thumb rubbing soothing circles through her shirt. What was going on? Was he actually being nice to her?

As if to answer her question, he softly pressed his lips to hers, the kiss simple and sweet. This was incredibly unlike him, to be so gentle and unintrusive, and she had to admit, it was much nicer than the forceful side of him she'd become so accustomed to. For a brief instant, she kissed him back. It was the first time she had let her guard slip like that, and he smiled at the split-second of trust she displayed. He slowly let his kisses trail down her neck, his hand still pressed over her stomach. When his lips reached the V of her cleavage, he raised his head, staring down at her. There was apprehension in her eyes, but no fear. He had shown her that he was being gentle with her, and she was no longer afraid of his touch; disgusted, yes, but not afraid. His lips quirked as he slowly pushed her shirt up and over her head, pulling it off and throwing it aside. He kissed the swells of her breasts, smirking when he heard a soft "Oh" pass her lips. His movements were slow and deliberate as he pulled down the cups of her bra to gently lick her nipples, humming softly as she moaned.

She closed her eyes, cooing softly as he rubbed his tongue against her hardened peaks. As good as it had felt when he'd done this before, it felt twice as good now. He was being so gentle with her, his movements soft and slow. It was almost tender, the way he touched her, kissed her. Was this how making love was supposed to feel? She was so confused, but the pleasure she felt made her mind too cloudy to give it much thought.

He slowly kissed his way down her stomach, pausing to dip and swirl his tongue inside her navel. With a soft purr, he sat up and stroked his hands down her sides and across her abdomen, smiling as she shivered and moaned. "Such soft skin…"

She tossed her head to the side, sighing and lifting her hips ever so slightly. The area between her legs throbbed, aching to be touched.

He smirked and raised an eyebrow at her body's subtle begging. Slowly, he let his hands trail down her stomach, stopping at the waistband of her jeans before slipping down between her legs.

"Oh!" She cried out as he touched her, felt his fingers rubbing her through her jeans. She couldn't believe she was actually enjoying this, not that she would ever admit to such a thing. Nothing had changed between them; she still hated him and wanted nothing more than to escape from his clutches. So why was she arching her hips into his hand and moaning for more?

He hummed appreciatively as he stroked her, feeling the heat of her like an ember in his palm. It thrilled him to see her lying pliant and writhing before him, hearing her cry out when he found a particularly sensitive place. He smirked to himself; oh, he was a cunning devil! His nimble fingers unfastened her pants and pulled them down, sliding them off her body. There was no affection or caring behind his gentleness; he wasn't refraining from taking her simply because he was concerned about her well-being. He was manipulating her. If she saw that he could pleasure her without pain, she would begin to want that pleasure more and more, and eventually, she would trust him to give it to her. And to a pure-hearted young woman like Lyra, trust was essential. He could care less if she hated him, but if she wanted him, he wouldn't have to force her obedience and soon, he could persuade her to make a contract with him. Also her womanly parts were still quite sore from his rather enthusiastic pursuits, and needed time to heal so that he could make love to her properly.

Slowly, he lowered himself between her legs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulling them down, then pushing against her thighs, keeping her long legs spread wide. Sebastian looked up at her and licked his lips, smirking as she moaned, then gave that little bundle of nerves a soft poke with the tip of his tongue.

"Ah!"

She arched her hips up into his mouth, instinctively pushing herself onto his tongue to increase her pleasure. He tsked reproachfully and pressed his hands over her hips, pinning them to the bed. "Not so wild, pet…just be still." He licked her again, the strokes of his tongue slow but firm. She tasted magnificent, and he would have been content to stay between her legs for hours, making her writhe and moan.

She clutched at the sheets, her body starting to tremble. This was so much better, this intense pleasure without the pain of penetration. The poor girl almost enjoyed what he was doing to her. If this was how good sex could be, she understood why everyone seemed obsessed with it. Those blood-red eyes stared up at her, and the gaze she had found frightening before, she now found alluring. She cried out as he gave the little hill a gentle suck, then flicked it playfully. Damn it, he was good. Too good. She threw her head back and forth as the hot coil in her stomach drew tighter and tighter. "Sebastian…oh, God…please…"

He smirked and swirled his tongue around her pearl, feeling her muscles tensing. She was still so sensitive, still learning to appreciate carnal desire and all the delicious sins of the flesh. And who could be a better teacher than he? He drove her closer and closer to the brink, and right as she teetered on the edge, sadist that he was, he lifted his head.

She whimpered and stared down at him. "Nnn…don't stop…"

"But I thought you didn't want this, pretty?"

"Dammit, Sebastian!"

He touched his finger to the little knot and slowly rubbed circles around it. "I might be persuaded to give you completion…if you admit how much you like it when I pleasure you like this." He smirked. "I want to hear you say it, little one."

"Never!"

"And why not? There's no sense in denying it."

"I won't say it!"

He laughed. "Still so defiant. Why do you resist me, Lyra? You know it's pointless."

She moaned, biting her lip. "You're…I can't…it's not…" The poor human couldn't keep her thoughts in order when he was driving her half-crazy with pleasure. "Ohh…"

"I see. You can't willingly submit to me because I'm a demon, correct?" When she nodded, he sighed. "Well, a God-fearing fool is the most stubborn fool of all. Besides, as much as I love tormenting you, I simply adore the way you scream my name when you climax. I'm rather not deny myself that pleasure." With that, he had mercy on his bed-slave and began licking her again, the strokes of his tongue hard and fast, driving her quickly over the edge.

"Oh! Oh God! A-Ah! Ah! _Sebastian!_"

He smirked as she convulsed with ecstasy, kissing his way up her body as she lay sprawled out on the sheets, panting. "Did you enjoy that?"

"Shut up."

"That's a yes, then."

She groaned and turned her head away, shutting her eyes. "God, you're annoying sometimes."

The dark-haired demon smirked and removed his shirt, lying next to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. "I prefer the term 'endearing' myself."

She was silent, wanting him to leave her alone so she could sleep. The powerful orgasm she'd just experienced had left her quite sleepy, and as she drifted off, she felt his lips against her ear.

"Sweet dreams, my lady."

* * *

><p><em>So there ya go! Sorry that it took so long, but I've been having some issues...nah, you don't want to hear about that. Anyway, please review, and again, Happy Birthday to my darling <strong>SangNoire<strong>!_


	4. Chapter 4

"Lyra. Wake up, my lady."

Someone was shaking her gently, and she groaned quietly, lifting her face from the pillow. "Mm?"

"It is time for you to wake."

She blinked and ran a hand through her tangled hair, pushing it out of her eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's 9:22."

She groaned in annoyance and let her head drop back onto the pillow. "S'too early."

He laughed. "Not a morning person, I take it?"

"Leave me alone, you demonic freak."

"Now, is that any way for a lady to behave? Besides, we have company coming."

She shot bolt upright, instantly alert. "Company?"

He smiled. "Well, that certainly did the trick. Yes, an acquaintance of mine will be paying us a visit today. He'll be here soon, so you might want to make yourself presentable."

She scrambled out of bed and grabbed a fresh towel, hurtling into the shower. "Why did you invite someone here?"

He smirked. "I need someone to keep an eye on you while I go run a few errands."

"Errands?" She paused, shampooing her hair. "I thought you said that the mark didn't allow me to be any more than a few feet from you? How can you go somewhere without taking me with you?"

His smirk widened. "Well, my dear, to put it simply, I lied. My seal isn't quite capable of physical restraint."

She froze. "Wh…why would you lie about something like that?"

"To discourage any escape attempts."

"And if I had tried to run for it?"

"You wouldn't have gotten far."

Lyra shivered despite the warm water, rinsed off, and stepped out, drying off and rubbing the towel across her dripping hair. "Who's coming?"

Sebastian sat on her bed, watching her as she dressed. "Someone that I've known for quite a long time."

The girl swallowed nervously. "Another demon?"

"No, not a demon, though not human, either."

"Then what?"

"You'll see."

She groaned and pulled on black pajama bottoms and a red tank-top, not caring enough to look put-together at the moment. "You're infuriating sometimes, do you know that?"

He smirked. "It's been said before."

Not bothering to dry her hair, she pulled it up in a high ponytail, her bangs lying limp against her cheeks. "So, when will he get here?"

"Right about-"

"BASSY!"

"Now."

Lyra gave a yelp of surprise as a tall, slender man with fiery red hair appeared in the room, pouncing onto her bed and clasping his gloved hands dramatically to his heart. "Dearest Bassy, I always knew you would call for me one day!"

The demon looked quite unimpressed as the newcomer threw his arms around his neck. "Yes, hello, Grell."

Finally, Grell noticed the girl pressed up against the bathroom door with a thoroughly confused expression on her face. It was apparent that this man wasn't human; he had teeth reminiscent of a shark, and his eyes were ringed with a double iris; the outside ring was yellow, while the inside ring was green. Her heart raced as those odd eyes narrowed at her.

"Bassy, who is she?"

Despite the fact that Grell was still clinging to him, Sebastian got to his feet. "Grell, I'd like for you to meet Miss Lyra St. John. Lyra, this is Grell Sutcliffe."

She arched an eyebrow. "And this is who you got to guard me?"

Grell climbed down, pouting. "Is she your new prey? Why do you always go for the kids, Bassy?"

"I'm afraid Lyra is not under contract. She bears a mark of a different sort. "

In a flash, he grabbed Lyra's right wrist and showed her palm to the red-headed man, whose eyes grew wide.

"She's your bed slave?" He squealed indignantly. "I've offered myself to you countless times, and you push me aside for this stringy little tart? It's not fair!" With a flick of his wrist, he tossed his long hair over his shoulder. "And she looks absolutely horrid in red!"

Lyra looked up at Sebastian. "So…is he a fairy or an elf or what?"

Sebastian laughed, but Grell looked positively livid. "How dare you, you underdressed little harlot!" The reaper snarled and produced a shiny red chainsaw from seemingly nowhere, revving the beast up and pointing it at her. His scowl turned into a smirk as Lyra yelped and ran into the bathroom. "Oh, what's wrong, dearie? Not afraid, are you?"

"Enough."  
>Grell pouted and turned off the machine. "Well, she was rude first!"<p>

Sebastian rolled his eyes and went into the bathroom, finding Lyra huddled in the far corner of the shower. "It's alright, my lady. Come out, please."

She shook her head. "Are you crazy? He's got a fucking chainsaw!"

The demon's eyebrows furrowed. "Language, Lyra. Besides, he won't hurt you."

"Like hell! What makes you so sure that he won't?"

"Because I'd kill him if he did."

She saw the hard flash in Sebastian's eyes and believed that he would back up his threat. Hating to have to rely on him to protect her, she took his hand and came out of the bathroom, staying a good distance away from the redhead.

"Now, my lady, do you work tonight?"

Lyra shook her head. "No, I have Mondays and Tuesdays off."

"Good. I will return sometime before dark. And Grell," he turned to the other man, "please keep in mind that if I find a single scratch on her, I will repay it back to you tenfold. Am I clear?"

Grell gulped. "Of course."

"Very well." He smirked and pulled Lyra into his arms for a quick, but passionate and very invasive kiss. She and Grell both squeaked in protest, but he withdrew soon and vanished. Lyra wiped her mouth and sank to the floor, leaning against the wall. The redhead settled down on her bed, then rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. You're Bassy's favorite, after all." His voice was tinged with bitterness.

"Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wanted to be turned into a demon's personal whore?" She narrowed her eyes. "If I had a choice, I'd let you have him all to yourself and go somewhere far away from the two of you."

"Why's that? He is handsome, after all. And so irresistibly cold, suave and yet indifferent-"

"He raped me. Sebastian forced me to have sex with him. Do you understand why I would hate him for that?"

"Hm." Grell arched an eyebrow. "Most women I know would consider it the best night of their lives, regardless of the circumstances. Are you saying he's a bad lover?"

Her cheeks grew red and she looked away. "That's not the point." The girl sighed and decided that since she was getting nowhere with Grell, that she might as well change the subject. "So…Sebastian said that you weren't a demon, but you're obviously not human."

"Of course not." He sat up straight, jutting his chin proudly. "I am a certified reaper."

"Reaper of what?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Do you honestly have to ask?"

Her golden-green eyes widened. "You…you collect human souls when they die?"

"Precisely." He smiled, showing his sharp teeth.

She looked him over, scrutinizing him. "Hm…no offense, but you look nothing like I thought a grim reaper would."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well…you're not very grim-looking."

His grin widened. "Thank you, dear."

Her eyes fell to the chainsaw, and her muscles tensed in distrust of the machine. "And I thought reapers used scythes…"

He patted the shiny red casing. "This _is_ a scythe." He sighed when she still looked confused. "'Scythe' is a general term for any tool used to harvest human souls." He smiled at it proudly. "Mine's completely customized; a true work of art."

Lyra coughed, obviously not agreeing. "Sure." She squirmed, unable to get comfortable on the floor. Cautiously, she stood and crossed to sit on the bed, scooting toward the wall and away from Grell. "So...are all reapers like you?"

He shook his head, casting a bored look down at the bedspread. "No, most of us live up to our title. My colleagues are so frightfully dull that I have to make my own fun at work." He smirked, showing off his pointed teeth. "It's so entertaining to watch a human's face when I arrive to harvest their soul. They could never believe a creature as stunningly beautiful as me could be the cause of their death." He tossed his hair, batting his lashes. "Of course, that just makes it all the more gratifying when I finally tear their souls from their bodies. The fear and horror in their eyes makes all the office drudgery worthwhile."

Lyra curled up defensively, pulling her knees to her chest. "Look, I know it's part of your job, but could you please not talk about death so lightly?"

Grell's smirk disappeared, and he arched an eyebrow. "Does it frighten you?"

She sighed. "No…but thinking about people dying makes me sad, and I've been sad enough these past couple of days. I don't need an old wound reopened on top of it."

Slowly, the reaper nodded, his expression softening. He sat cross legged in front of her, leaning toward her. "I see. You lost someone precious to you, didn't you? A loved one?"

"My dad."

"Ah. How old were you?"

"Seventeen, almost eighteen."

"So young… If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

The girl sighed. "There's this disease…it basically causes the cells of your body to destroy themselves, so you die from the inside out. We call it cancer."

"Sounds gruesome."

"It's horrible. It's a slow and very painful way to die, and there was nothing we could do but sit there and watch him fade away." She paused. "Four months after he was diagnosed, he was gone…and it felt like the entire world had stopped." Lyra picked up a pillow and hugged it to her chest. "It felt like I was little…lost and scared in a place that was suddenly so unfamiliar. Things that I'd taken for granted before; eating, showering, sleeping...they all seemed so trivial. Why should I do these things if my dad couldn't anymore?"

"It sounds as though you loved him."

"Of course I loved him. He was my dad…" She sighed. "I was his only daughter out of five children, so from the moment I was born, I was his little princess. I always had dreams of having my father walk me down the aisle, of dancing with him at my wedding, of seeing him holding his first grandchild…but all of my dreams, all of my plans included him, and now he was gone. I didn't know what to do." Lyra sniffed and waved her hand. "Change of subject, before I start crying."

"Just one more thing, dear. What was your father's name?"

She raised her head, arching an eyebrow. "David St. John. Why?"

Grell winked and pulled out a large book with ornate leather binding. "Ah…Aha! There he is! David St. John, collected August 11th, 2009, at approximately ten till eight a.m. Does that sound right?"

She shivered and nodded. "Yeah."

"That's interesting."

"What is?" She narrowed her eyes. "You weren't the one who took his soul, were you?"

"Oh, heavens, no! But the chap who did happens to be a friend of mine." He leaned back on his hands, studying her. "Part of the reaper's job is to view the person's entire existence and decide where they should go from there. Don't you want to know where your father ended up?"

"He's in heaven-"

"Are you sure?"

She chewed on her lip; she'd heard stories about her father from her uncles and aunts, and she knew that the man hadn't been a saint. It stained her certainty with doubt; was he really in heaven? Grell saw her hesitation and smirked. "We can find out, you know. Believe it or not, he doesn't live far from here." He smiled brightly at her. "What do you say, hm?"

She sighed. "What's in it for you, anyway?"

Grell shrugged. "It's dreadfully boring here, and I haven't seen him in quite a long time. Besides, you seem like a decent enough girl, and I don't mind giving you a bit of closure."

Lyra stared down at the bedspread, torn between ignorant bliss and the possibility of facing an unthinkable truth. When her father had died, she'd heard the similar, tired phrases. "He's in a better place." "He'll never really be gone." "You'll see him again someday." They'd done little to comfort her, but she had always been certain that they were true. Now she had the chance to be brave and find out for herself…or remain safely oblivious.

"Alright. Let's go."

The reaper grinned and leapt off the bed. "Excellent!"

"So where is this guy?"

"Like I said, not far. Do you have a vehicle?"

"Yeah, my car."

"Lovely." He smiled and practically skipped to the door in his haste to leave her apartment; she couldn't blame him. All the cleanliness and organization couldn't disguise the fact that that tiny two-room space was a bit of a dump. The paint on the walls was dingy, the carpets frayed and worn, and the vinyl in the kitchen and bathroom was curled and cracked at the edges. She sighed; yes, she lived here, but it wasn't a home.

"Calm down, wait for me."

Grell laughed softly as they walked outside, the human girl pulling out her keys and unlocking her car. The two of them climbed inside as Lyra started the vehicle, then rested her hands on the wheel. "Alright, where to?"

The reaper tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know the streets, so just drive and I'll tell you when to turn, alright?"

She sighed and pulled out. "Fine, but I hope you plan to pay me back for the gas."

As they drove away, Grell said casually, "Tell me more about yourself, Lyra."

"Can I get a 'please'?" She rolled her eyes. "You already know quite a bit about me. I think should tell me more about yourself first."

He grinned. "Alright. Well, you already know my name and what I do. Is there anything in particular you'd like to know?"

"How do you know Sebastian?" The question tumbled out of her mouth before she even thought about it. "I mean, it just seemed like the two of you have some history."

He sighed dramatically. "Well, I first met him through Madame Red, shortly before the Jack the Ripper incident-"

"_What?"_ She felt her eyebrows raise almost to her hairline in astonishment. "Sebastian was involved in the Jack the Ripper case? And who's Madame Red?"

Grell arched a sculpted eyebrow in response. "Heavens, didn't that man tell you anything?"

"No, not really."

"Alright. Well, at the time, I was employed by a woman named Angelina Durless, known affectionately to her friends and family as 'Madame Red.'"

"I can see why the two of you got along."

He laughed softly. "Oh, we got along splendidly for a while. Together, we made up the serial murderer known as Jack the Ripper."

Her jaw dropped. _"You're_ Jack the Ripper?" She slowly shook her head. "It's too bad I can't tell anybody about this. The National Enquirer would pay me a fortune for this story."

The reaper laughed. "Dear, no one would take you seriously. People don't believe in superstition like they used to. Anyway, eventually, Sebastian and that kid caught up to us. Bassy and I were engaged in a marvelous moonlit duel to the death, and just when I had him cornered, Madame Red went soft on me." His lips formed a pout. "She couldn't kill the brat, simply because he was her nephew."

"Ciel was related to her?"

"Yes. The only child of her sister, Rachel Phantomhive. When she couldn't kill him, I killed her." His voice became softer, pensive. "I wish it hadn't been necessary, but unfortunately, she'd become just another woman."

Grell went on to explain how Ciel had ordered Sebastian to kill the reaper, how they'd fought and how Grell had almost gotten sliced open with his own scythe.

"We've had many deadly encounters since then, most of them dealing with some order the kid got from the Queen." He recounted the tales of a sinister puppeteer, a cult led by an angel, and of two great fires that almost destroyed London. "Of course, that was before the Trancy incident."

"Trancy incident?"

"Yes. For a while, the two of them were engaged against a boy named Alois Trancy, who was very similar to Ciel. He too had a demon for a butler."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "Was that just a popular trend back then?"

The reaper smiled as he recounted the entire affair. Alois Trancy, originally Jim Macken, had sealed a contract with a demon, one Claude Faustus by name. The details were complicated, but Alois had wanted revenge against Sebastian for allegedly killing his younger brother, Luka. The contract Alois had made with Claude stipulated that Ciel Phantomhive had to be taken from his butler, and Claude, realizing that the young earl's soul was a rare delicacy, plotted to take Ciel for himself. At the middle of a twisted web of betrayal, deceit, and murder, the demon managed to switch Ciel's and Alois's souls, forcing their similar memories to mesh and become impossible to distinguish. Unbelievably, another demon, Hannah Annafellows, had stepped in, convincing Alois to make a contract with her that required Claude and Sebastian to fight to the death; the winner could finally claim Ciel's soul. However, the contract also stated that after a victim was declared, Ciel Phantomhive would be released…but his soul would cease to exist. He would return to this world as a demon, soulless and hungry, just like the butler who had fought so hard for him.

"And since Ciel had given him an order to remain his butler until the day he consumed his soul, poor Bassy's been stuck with the kid ever since. Take a left here, dear."

She blinked; this was a lot to process. "Wow…no wonder he got so possessive."

"Possessive?"

"The other day, he explained that he found me because I smelled like another demon…and he got this look on face, like he was going to tear someone apart, and said 'I won't let anyone take away what belongs to me.'"

"That's my Bassy," Grell said proudly. "Take a right at this gravel road. It'll be the first building to your right, about two miles down."

She sighed as she made the turn. "This friend of yours lives out in the middle of scenic nowhere."

"Well, he explained that the cities nowadays are too crowded and noisy for his liking, and through his other line of work, he's become accustomed to solitude and silence."

"I thought he was a reaper?"

"Well, for a long time, he had retired from active service and took up his other profession."

"Which is?"

"You'll see."

She sighed. "You are just as vague and infuriating as Sebastian."

"Thank you, dear."

They drove in silence for a while, until a big black house came into view. The yard was overgrown with grass and weeds, and dotted with pink and white wildflowers that looked out of place in front of the dark, foreboding structure.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"For a grim reaper, he's not very inconspicuous, is he?"

"Well, he's quite attached to the color black."

"So I see."

They pulled into the drive, and Lyra caught sight of the big wooden sign that hung over the door, the letters cracked and faded but still readable.

"The Undertaker…" She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "I should have seen this coming."

Grell stretched, then put a hand on her shoulder. "Just go ahead in, he never locks the door."

"…Okay."

She walked up the creaky stairs and pushed the door open, the hinges squealing ominously. The front room was large, though cluttered with long, dark boxes; the only light was the weak sunbeams that shone through the dirty windows. It was dusty, hung with cobwebs, and smelled of old wood and chemicals. The space appeared to be deserted, although there were a disconcerting number of places a person could hide.

"Hello…?" Her call was timid, as if half-hoping no one would answer.

"Hehehehe…"

She shivered as she heard the soft, insane giggle. "Who's there?"

"Welcome, girlie. Have you come for a fitting?"

"A…fitting?"

Lyra heard the sound of something heavy being moved, and she whipped around, her eyes scanning the room for movement. Finally, she saw the lid on a box that leaned against the north wall swinging open to reveal the man inside, whom she presumed was the Undertaker.

"For your coffin, of course. Never too early to start shopping, dear."

The lid finally swung wide to reveal him completely; he was tall and pale, with long grey hair that obscured his eyes. A strange, barbed scar ran across his face from left to right; a matching scar circled his throat. The only other distinguishable feature on his face was a wide, toothy grin that never seemed to fade. He wore a long black robe that fell to his shins, displaying black leather boots with tarnished silver buckles. The sleeves of his robe fell over his hands, hiding them from sight. Overall, he presented an antiquated and very eerie figure.

"Uh…no. I'm not here for a fitting…" She glanced behind her, wondering what her reaper friend had gotten her into. "Grell?"

"Don't worry, he won't bite you." Grell sashayed in behind her, flipping his fiery hair over his shoulder and batting his lashes flirtatiously at the grey-haired man. "But if you wanted to bite _me_, darling, I certainly wouldn't object."

Lyra didn't know how it was possible, but the Undertaker's smile got even wider. "Hello, ginger. It's been a while."

"Over a hundred years," the redhead pouted. "You never visit, you never write. I was beginning to feel ignored."

The Undertaker gave a little giggle, then turned his gaze on Lyra; at least, she thought he did. It was hard to tell when you couldn't see his eyes.

"So, since you're not here to shop, how can I be of service to you, Miss St. John?"

She stared at him, forcing her jaw not to drop. "How do you know my name?"

He crept closer to her, almost circling her. "Oh, I know a lot about you, girlie. In fact, I know about as much as your father did."

She rounded on him, her eyes flashing. "What are you talking about?"

Grell stepped forward. "Dear, he's seen your father's Cinematic Record. Every memory your father ever had was recorded and viewed at the time of his death. In laymen's terms, his life flashed before his eyes."

She relaxed a bit, but still kept a wary eye on the Undertaker. "Alright…"

"That's why you've come, isn't it? To learn about the final fate of David St. John's soul?" He laughed. "Since you're a first-time customer, I'll give you the information free of charge." He sat on one of the closed coffins and produced a tin that held cookies in the shape of bones. He held it out to her, and she shook her head. Grell took two of the dubious treats, then sat beside the Undertaker, munching happily.

"Have a seat, miss."

She looked around for a chair and was dismayed to find none. Biting her lip, she pointed to another closed coffin. "There's…no one in there, right?"

"Not yet."

"Oh, lovely." She sat, incredibly uncomfortable, then looked over at the Undertaker. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel him staring at her.

"So then, David St. John. Yes, I remember him. Almost glad to see me, he was. Made me wait a bit before he surrendered his soul."

Lyra fought back the sting of tears as the painful memory surfaced. "Mhm…he waited until my mom and I had left the room."

"And you want to know where he ended up?"

"I…" She looked down at the floor, folding her arms over her stomach, trying to calm its anxious turning. Could she be brave and face the truth, or would it be too much for her fragile heart to handle?

"Well?"

Slowly, so slowly it was hard to see at first…she shook her head. "No. I can't."

The Undertaker only grinned, but Grell frowned, looking confused. "But it's the reason why we came out here!"

Lyra continued to stare down at the floor, hiding her face in her hands. "I'm not brave enough… Losing my dad already destroyed me once, and if I find out that there's no chance of me ever seeing him again…" She shivered and pressed her lips together, suppressing a powerful sob. "I'm not strong enough to go through losing him again. I won't survive it."

"You're afraid he's in Hell, aren't you, girlie?" The Undertaker stood and crossed to her, circling behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder; she saw that his fingernails were long, almost clawlike, and painted black. "And where is it you think you'll end up in the hereafter?"

She glanced up at him, but was unable to look at his spooky grin for very long. "I've surrendered my heart and my soul to God, and I'll be in Heaven when I die."

"Is that what you believe?" He grinned and giggled softly, then crossed in front of her and held out his left hand. She noticed that a strange scar circled the base of his little finger, identical to the ones on his face and neck. "Let me see your hand."

Grudgingly, she put her right hand in his, gritting her teeth as he pulled it closer to his face, studying it carefully. That wide smirk was still curled on his lips as he traced the outline of the scarlet pentagram with the tip of one long fingernail. Lyra shivered, wanting to pull her hand away, out of his grasp. His skin was cool and smooth, but dry, as if he'd had his hands submerged in various chemicals and preservatives that she didn't want to allow herself to think about. It wasn't exactly a pleasant sensation.

"Last I checked, they didn't allow demons in heaven." He smirked and brandished her mark, waving her own hand in front of her face.

Lyra clenched her jaw. "I am not a demon."

"No, but you belong to one, don't you? And he won't let you go so easily." Finally, he dropped her hand. "Funny how that butler shows up again after all these years. It seems I've been running into all sorts of old friends lately." He chuckled, then his hand shot out to grab her chin, pulling her face up. "Trust me, girlie, once a demon's got a hold of you, there ain't but one way out…and it's not through heaven."

Lyra wrenched away, almost toppling backwards over the coffin, and found herself hating the sound of Grell's high titter. "Oh, be nice, darling. She's such a skittish little thing."

She glared at the two reapers, feeling humiliated, angry, and conspired against. "Alright, that's it. This little field trip is over. We need to go."

Grell's ringed eyes narrowed as he pouted. "But we just got here!"

"Leaving. _Now._"

"Oh, alright." He huffed and stood, then wrapped his arms around the Undertaker's neck, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Farewell, darling. It's been absolutely lovely to see you."

"Likewise, ginger." He smirked as Lyra went to the door. "Come back and see me anytime you like, girlie."

With a growl and a poisonous glare, she stormed out of the room and out in the bright sunshine that seemed to mock her, making a point to crush as many of the pink and white flowers as she could beneath her sneakers. She got into her car and blasted the horn until Grell come out and joined her, then reversed out of the drive and sped away, her tires spitting gravel.

The redhead crossed his arms and pouted. "Well, that was rather rude."

"Shut up."

"Lyra, what's gotten into-?"

"_Just shut up!"_ She shrieked and slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop as Grell squealed and clung to the dash. "None of you understand _anything!_ Not you, not the Undertaker, and certainly not Sebastian! None of you get it!" She beat her fists against the steering while. "I didn't want any of this! Do you have _any_ idea how painful it is to watch one of the few people you know would always love you waste away? I watched my father die slowly, day by day, and after he was gone, everything fell apart! My family, my friends, my life-nothing was the same!" She clenched her hands around the steering wheel to disguise how badly they were shaking, her knuckles turning white. "I convinced myself that I'd get through it, and that I'd be a better person, a stronger person. I would use my pain and my suffering to push myself, to help others, to do what I thought God wanted of me. And just when I thought I was going to be okay, just when the world started feeling right again, _that fucking demon shows up and ruins everything!_" She made a strangled sound somewhere between a choke and gasp. "I wanted to be brave, I wanted to prove to myself that despite everything, I was strong enough to survive…but I'm not. I'm still scared and broken, and now I'll never heal. Sebastian…he took so much from me, and now he's going to take away the only safe place, the only source of peace I had left." She bit her lips, her throat working as her suppressed sobs tried to rise. Her sudden outburst had left her hurting more than she cared to admit, but she didn't have the strength to push it away.

Grell remained silent, but gingerly put his hand on her shoulder, his eyes narrowing a bit when she flinched. Oddly, she found the simple touch rather comforting; the weight of his hand made her feel less isolated. He wasn't expecting anything of her, didn't ask that she respond or even acknowledge him. After a few moments, she managed to compose herself and wipe away the tears that had leaked out. With a deep breath, she gave Grell an apologetic, if somewhat watery smile.

"I'm sorry."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't be. I've lived long enough to know that humans are an extremely emotional race. Believe me, that was not the worst tantrum I've ever seen."

Sniffling, she started to drive back into town, a strange sense of calm coming over her. She wasn't quite sure why, but she felt closer to the odd, redheaded reaper, more at ease with his company. _Go figure,_ she thought with a dry smile as the re-entered the city limits.

_We've actually bonded._

* * *

><p><em>Sorry about the long wait, ladies and gents. This one took a LOT of revision, and I ended up cutting two scenes. Not to mention, the subject matter was a little difficult to deal with... Anyhoo, please review! You know I love hearing from all you lovely people!<em>


	5. Chapter 5

Just as the sun began to set, Sebastian quietly opened the door to Lyra's apartment, almost expecting to find the girl frightened and huddled in a corner, and the reaper bored out of his mind. What he found when he stepped inside, however, was completely unexpected.

Grell sat cross-legged on the loveseat, Lyra curled up with her back against his knees, her head leaned back into his lap, and Ludus dozing in her arms. The thin black gloves that Grell normally wore had been discarded so that he could weave his fingers through her long chestnut hair, twisting it into an intricate braid. Both of them were laughing; Lyra's eyes sparkled with mirth. The demon arranged his features into a simple smile before speaking.

"Well, it looks like the two of you are getting along wonderfully."

The reaper grinned. "She is _such_ a dear, Bassy! Look!" He turned his head so Sebastian could see the simple but elegant updo that Lyra had pulled his scarlet locks into.

Lyra blushed and buried her face in her cat's furry back. "It's nothing special."

The demon nodded. "Lovely. If you wouldn't mind, Grell, I think it's time that Lyra and I had some time alone."

His words were pleasant enough, his tone congenial, but there was a threatening flash in his eyes and made the other two occupants of the room swallow nervously. Grell quickly finished his work on Lyra's hair, then stood and patted her shoulder.

"Lovely to meet you, Lyra."

She smiled up at him, remaining seated on the floor so as not to disturb the cat. "Come back and see me sometime, okay?"

"Of course, dear."

Grell straightened and pulled his gloves back on, then put his hands flirtatiously on Sebastian's chest, leaning into him. "Perhaps one kiss for the road, Bassy, my love?"

Sebastian's eyes flashed that poisonous fuchsia, and he said calmly, "Some other time, Grell."

The reaper drew back as if he'd been stung, then gave the girl a rather frightened wave before leaving, stumbling a bit over the threshold. Lyra giggled, hiding her smile behind her hand. "Well, that was a jerky thing to do. Poor Grell."

"Well, if you'd had to put up with it for as long as I have, you'd be a trifle testy as well."

Her laughter died away, and Sebastian didn't miss the slight dimming of her eyes; the joyful glimmer was no longer there. He crouched in front of her and held out his hand. "Come with me. I have something to show you."

Slowly, she placed the sleeping cat on the loveseat, then narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Something like what?"

He gave her a secretive little smile. "It's a surprise."

She stared at him for a few moments before sighing and standing, ignoring the hand that he offered. "Fine. But I swear, if this is some sort of trick-"

"You'll do what, hm?" He surged forward and took her face between his hands, smashing his lips to hers in a heated kiss. She yelped and pushed against his shoulders, but she already knew it was useless. He growled softly as he slid his tongue into her mouth, sliding his hands down her arms and grabbing her wrists, pinning her hands behind her back. She wiggled in his grasp, but could not get free. Finally, he drew back, pressing his forehead to hers and brushing his lips against hers with every whispered syllable. "You have no power to command me, Lyra. Your life, your heart, your very soul rests in my hands." He smirked and released her hands, gently stroking her cheek. "But that could change. You could have your pride back. You could be my mistress, could have my obedience at your command."

"I wouldn't be free; you would still have my soul."

"Is that really such a steep price to pay?"

"My soul isn't yours to take. I'll never give it up."

He sighed and released her. "Are humans always so stubborn?"

"Only the smart ones."

He chuckled, then snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot. The surprise." He smiled and held out his hand. "This way, my lady."

Hesitantly, she put her hand in his, then gave a short yelp as something covered her eyes; a blindfold. "Sebastian, what the hell-?"

"Relax, my lady. We don't want to spoil the surprise too soon, do we?" Gently, he led her from the apartment and out into the parking lot. From there, he helped her into the passenger seat of a car. Instantly, she knew something was off. The seat beneath her was made of soft, supple leather, not the worn fabric of her car. The doors didn't squeal when opened, and the interior smelled brand new.

"Sebastian…this isn't my car."

The demon said cryptically, "Isn't it?" before sliding into the driver's seat and pulling out, the engine springing to life with a roar.

Quickly buckling herself in, Lyra muttered, "Since when can you drive?"

She could practically feel him smirking, though he remained silent. Lyra fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling distinctly uneasy about the whole situation. After a while, Sebastian said conversationally, "Sing for me."

She arched an eyebrow beneath the blindfold. "Any requests?"

"Something on a more solemn note, if you wouldn't mind."

She sighed, hesitating for a moment, then sang a couple of songs that she'd always found to be tearjerkers, mostly about broken hearts and failed relationships. The lyrics seemed trite now, and she blushed a bit, switching to an old classical piece about a woman pining for the man she loved; even that sounded a bit trivial. She folded her arms over her chest and turned her head toward the passenger window, even though the cloth over her eyes prevented her from viewing the scenery. Nameless dread was roiling in her stomach, making her feel queasy despite the smooth ride of the car. The machine was so quiet that she could hear nothing but the hum of tires on pavement, Sebastian's soft breathing, and her own pounding heart. The silence pressed on her ears like a physical force, and she was tempted to sing again, just to break the oppressing lack of noise.

After what seemed like an hour, she felt the car turn onto gravel and the sensation of being pressed back slightly as they drove up a hill. She twisted her hands nervously in her lap, a little bit frightened of what she would see when the blindfold was removed.

Finally, the car stopped, and Sebastian helped her out and led her through a doorway; she could hear the click of a knob being turned and the subtle sound of air moving as the door swung open. He pulled her forward a few steps, then stood behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Are you ready to see your surprise, my lady?"

"Sebastian, for God's sake, quit with the theatrics and show me already."

He laughed, then gently removed the blindfold. For a minute, she was paralyzed with fright; her surroundings were completely unfamiliar. It appeared to be the foyer of a large house, expensive-looking rugs laid out on cool tile. It was meticulously clean; the surfaces almost seemed to sparkle. To her right, there was a large wooden door that she assumed was a living room or a study, and to her left was a grand dining room, the space mostly taken up by a huge mahogany table.

"What is this…?"

He laughed softly in her ear. "Welcome home, my lady."

She swayed a little bit, her knees buckling. "…Home?"

Sebastian tightened his grip on her to keep her upright. "This is where you and I shall live for the remainder of my stay on the mortal plane."

"Sebastian, you…please tell me you didn't…"

He feigned innocence. "Didn't what?"

"Buy this place."

He grinned. "Of course I did. Would you suggest that I steal it instead?"

"I can't believe…where did you get the money for this? This must have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars!" She was panting a bit, pressing a hand to her heart, blinking rapidly to try and clear her overwhelmed mind.

"I have my sources, Lyra." His hands slid down her sides to curl over her hips. "It's paid in full under an alias, so you needn't worry about a scandal."

"Oh trust me, a scandal is the last thing I'm worried about." With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she ran to the doorway, fearing the worst.

A sleek black car crouched like a sleeping jungle cat in the drive. She didn't recognize the shape, but she knew it was a luxury car; one that very few could afford. Her knees shaking, she circled the machine, half-fearful that it would roar to life and pounce on her. On the back, there was a decal, a pair of silver wings with the words ASTON MARTIN printed in a block of green.

"Oh, no…"

"Quite a stunning piece of craftsmanship, don't you think?" The demon was leaning in the doorway, the slight breeze ruffling his hair. "It's yours, of course, but I don't think I'll be able to resist driving it from time to time."

She rounded on him. "You…why…why would you do this?" Her mind was racing, trying to catch up, to comprehend Sebastian's actions.

His expression was pleasant, though somewhat blank, as if he were wearing a mask. "I was under the impression that your vehicle isn't in the best condition, my lady."

"But…the house…"

"I hope you'll forgive my rudeness, but that cramped apartment was hardly suitable for one person, let alone two. I thought this would be more comfortable."

She narrowed her eyes; something didn't add up. She walked up to him, searching his face for any betraying emotions. "Why? Why would you feel the need to buy me such extravagant gifts? What are you hoping to get out of it?"

"Your happiness."

She blinked; she had been expecting a sneaky, roundabout answer. His eyes betrayed no hint of untruth, no signs of hidden intent. The poor girl was naïve enough to believe, even for a moment, that the demon was capable of being entirely selfless.

"I…I don't know what to say…"

He allowed himself a smile. "How about 'thank you'?"

She finally averted her eyes. "We'll see." She brushed past him and walked back inside. "Don't think this means that I owe you any favors."

He laughed and followed her inside. "Perish the thought, my lady." He trailed after her like a shadow as she explored the ground floor, but when she started up the stairs to the second floor, Sebastian took a hold of her wrist. "Not yet." He smiled, though his expression was just the tiniest bit hungry. "That's a surprise for later, pet."

"Oh, God…" She sighed in dismay.

With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to her temple. "I think you'll enjoy it, little one."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. First the car, then the house, and now this strange display of affection? What was with him today? He was acting almost…loving toward her. Her hands balled into fists; that couldn't be it. He was a demon, a fiend. Creatures like him knew nothing about love. Didn't they? She was too caught up in her thoughts to struggle away from him, and she relaxed in his embrace, for once not minding the weight of his arms around her.

After a moment of silence, he murmured gently into her ear, "Is there anything in particular that you'd like to do this evening, my lady? To break in your new home?" He smiled, brushing her bangs off her forehead.

Lyra sighed and squirmed away from him. "I kind of just want to curl up and watch a movie or two." She moved to rake her hand through her hair, but it was still trapped in a braid. "I've had a long day, and I just want to relax, you know?"

He nodded. "Yes, I know. The Undertaker alerted me to your little ordeal at his shop." He looked her over, but said nothing more.

Lyra's cheeks turned pink. "Oh…well, I don't take back anything that I said. My feelings for you haven't changed, regardless of any outrageous gift you bribe me with."

He laughed. "I would expect nothing else from a young woman like you, dear." Casually, he crossed his arms over his chest. "If watching films will make you happy, then please do so. I believe there's a television in the library." He nodded toward the open library door.

The girl arched an eyebrow. "Okay…will you be joining me?"

He smirked. "Of course. I can't allow you to have all the fun, can I?"

She held back a groan, closing her eyes. He was going to be pawing at her all night, wasn't he?

To her surprise and delight, he kept his hands mostly to himself as they settled on the couch to watch her favorite horror flick, only sliding one arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. She had to admit, despite present company, it felt rather nice. It was almost easy to forget what he'd put her through.

Lyra grinned as one of the villains of the movie filled up the screen in a close-up shot. "Could they have gotten a better actor for this role? The only thing I would change is his eyes."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Well, in the book, they were red. It would have made him so much more menacing and interesting if he'd had red eyes."

"Really?"

She glanced up to see Sebastian staring down at her with that hungry look in his blood red eyes, the same color that her favorite villain should have had. Turning away, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Why did he have to go and spoil what was until then a wonderful movie? Now all she could think about when she saw it was the villain with Sebastian's eyes, those crimson eyes that trapped her, snared her, seduced her, and frightened her.

That was the only dark moment in an otherwise calm evening. They watched quite a few movies; Lyra even played an animated musical, just so she could see Sebastian's reaction to it. He remained mostly indifferent, however, tightening his arm around her when she giggled and smiling when she gave a critique about an actor or plot point.

After maybe four and a half hours, Lyra stretched and turned off the TV. "Alright, show me this surprise upstairs so we can get this over with and go to sleep."

The demon smirked. "As you wish, my lady." The two of them got to their feet and went out into the foyer, Lyra hobbling a bit until her stiff knees could fully extend. When they reached the staircase, Sebastian fixed her with a hard look. "Please close your eyes, dear."

She shook her head. "No way. I've gone up stairs with my eyes closed before, and it didn't end well."

Sebastian smirked. "Don't you trust me?"

"You already know the answer to that," she murmured.

His smirk fell. "I swear to you that I will not let you fall, Lyra."

Her heart stuttered a bit as she heard the conviction in his words; there was no way that was an empty promise. She felt unsettled and confused; what was he trying to accomplish? He knew that she would never give up her soul, would never surrender herself to him. Had he accepted this fact and given up on forcing her? She chewed on her lip. Maybe…maybe he was starting to care for her. No, that couldn't be it. He was a demon, a monster. She was nothing more than a toy to him. A slave. Why should he care about her? And yet…her young heart, inexperienced with matters like this, was persisting that maybe what she read in novels and short stories was true. Maybe creatures like him could fall in love with humans. And maybe…that human could be her. Letting out a breath, she closed her eyes and nodded. " Alright. I trust you."

There was silence for a brief moment, and she was tempted to open her eyes. Then, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, guiding her step by step as they went upstairs. She remembered a few summers ago, when she'd spent one week at a retreat for Methodist youth. The kids had done something called "trust walks," where they were paired up and one person was blindfolded while their partner led them around, giving them instructions on where to step and when to turn. That's what this was now; a trust walk. She pressed her lips together; she hadn't wanted to trust him, at least not yet. Somehow he'd managed to make her trust him, and it annoyed her somewhat that he'd been able to break down her barriers so quickly. As they came to a stop, the girl decided that despite her annoyance, trusting him might not be such a bad thing after all.

She heard the sound of a door being opened, then Sebastian put his hands on her shoulders. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as he leaned close to murmur in her ear. "Alright, my lady. You may open your eyes now."

Hesitating for a moment, her eyes fluttered halfway open, then shot wide. She was standing in the most gorgeous bedroom she'd ever laid eyes on. The floor was a beautiful glossy hardwood, with a big plush rug laid out in the middle of it. The walls were painted in a breathtaking deep purple with swirls of indigo around the baseboards. A television was mounted on the wall, the newest and fastest laptop sat on the desk, but by far the thing she was most delighted to see was the bed. It was huge, at least a king size, if not bigger, and draped with soft cotton sheets in the same deep purple as the walls. A canopy and curtains made of layered silks covered the bed, and could be pulled to conceal her as she slept. It was the bedroom she had dreamed about ever since she was a little girl.

"Oh my God…"

Sebastian laughed quietly and leaned against the doorframe. "Do you like it?"

Unable to speak, she nodded slowly, then stepped inside. Everything smelled like lavender and fresh rain, and she sat down carefully on the bed, as if not quite sure that this was real and wouldn't disappear at the first touch. "This is…the most beautiful bedroom I've ever seen." Her eyes were wide, almost owlish, as if she didn't want to miss a single detail. After a few moments passed in silence, she looked at the demon, chewing on her lip and her brows knitted together. "Sebastian…"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Um…where do you sleep?" Somehow, she just couldn't picture Sebastian lying on purple sheets.

He must have read her expression, because he smirked, chuckling quietly. "I have my own room, dear one."

"Oh." She continued to nibble at her lip, still completely confused by him. Was this even the same person who had raped her only a couple nights before? He'd been insatiable, barely able to keep his hands to himself, but now he had taken a few steps back and given her some space. If they were forced to be together, she realized that if he continued to act as if she were something other than just a sex slave, that she mattered to him…then she could live with this. She could be okay for a little while. Suddenly, deep appreciation and gratitude for his actions overwhelmed her.

"Can I see your room?"

Sebastian gave her a blank stare, then a knowing smirk curled at the corners of his mouth. "Of course."

She stood and followed him out of the room, down the hallway until they reached the last door on the left. The demon opened it for her, and she stepped inside, a little bit stunned. Where her room had been lavish and colorful, his was sparse and gloomy. The walls were a dark slate-grey, and the only three pieces of furniture were a bed with black sheets, a desk, and a bookcase. The small closet had only a few clothes hanging inside.

"Oh…"

He laughed softly. "Did you expect it to be as extravagant as yours?" He put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not one for flashy colors; I prefer to keep things as monochromatic as possible."

Slowly, she nodded. "I see." She turned in his arms, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her eyes avoiding his nervously as she lightly wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.

Sebastian was rarely surprised by anything; having lived for as long as he had, there was little that could catch him off guard. Even now, as the girl who professed to hate him embraced him, he smirked to himself and wrapped his arms around her in return, drawing her warm body close. They stood, holding each other in silence for a long moment, before Sebastian brushed his lips against her ear. "I'll assume this is your way of thanking me, shall I?"

"Shut up."

He laughed softly, pulling back a bit as Lyra raised her head. Their eyes locking, she slid her arms around his neck and whispered, "Just…just get it over with."

"My lady…"

She reached up and pressed a finger to his lips. "Stop. If you wait around, I'll lose my nerve." Finally looking away, she rested her forehead against his chest. "Please…don't let it hurt. Just don't let it hurt anymore."

He nodded, a smile crossing his features, then took her face between his hands and pulled her up for a kiss, his tongue sliding gently into her mouth. Her arms tightened fractionally, and she kissed him back, moaning softly as her tongue shyly caressed his. For several moment, they kissed in each other's arms, Sebastian purring as Lyra pressed herself against him, able to feel every soft curve of her body. He could even feel her heart pounding against his chest; she was either very nervous or very excited. Or both.

She tried to make herself relax, to let her body take over and just give in; perhaps it would hurt less later on if she did. Yet she couldn't force her tensed muscles to loosen, couldn't soften the fierce grip she had on his shirt as his mouth moved to her throat. It was as if an electric current was being passed through her body, pulling her nerves as taut as piano wire. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, bit by bit she relaxed, only to become rigid again when his hand slipped under her shirt or when she felt the scrape of teeth against her skin. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer, and she closed her eyes, curling against him.

"Ah…Sebastian, please…"

Without another word, he lifted her in his arms, growling softly as she wrapped her legs around his waist. With inhuman grace and speed, he carried her to the bed and laid her down on it, crawling over her. His lips curled into a lustful smirk as he felt her hand slide up into his hair, her fingers combing through the inky black strands. Slowly, he began pulling her shirt over her head, humming in approval when she sat up to help him remove it. Her bra came next, disposed with in a matter of seconds, and when she was bare from the waist up, she laid back down and arched her back with feline grace, moaning softly as he ran his hands over her breasts. Her own hands were shaking as she hesitantly unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers sliding across his skin with a feathery touch. The crimson eyes burned into her as he swiftly unfastened her jeans, pulling them down and leaving her in only her panties. She was biting her lip as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, throwing it aside. He really was attractive, his skin smooth and pale, more warm to the touch than she had expected. Her eyes practically begging for his approval, she leaned up and brushed her lips against his neck. The demon let out a satisfied purr, lifting his chin to expose more of his throat. Her soft lips left spots of heat on his skin as he kicked off his pants, sliding her underwear off so that their bodies lay bare against each other. Her cheeks were a delicious cherry-red, and he bent to kiss them, his hands sliding up her legs and prying them open. Gasping, she turned away, rolling onto her side and trying to close her legs.

"Sebastian…I c-can't…I can't do it."

He sighed, then reached up and touched her face, his fingertips sliding against her silky cheek. "Of course you can, my lady. You have the strength to do anything." He kissed her forehead, smoothing her hair back. "And you know that."

His unexpectedly gentle words both shocked and soothed her. Perhaps her suspicions were right…perhaps Sebastian was beginning to care for her. At least enough so that he didn't want to force her to lie with him. Tears gathering in her eyes, she nodded slowly, turning to face him again and spreading her legs, whimpering a bit as he wedged himself between her thighs. She buried her face in his shoulder, clutching him to her so tightly that her nails left crescent-shaped marks in his skin.

"Please…"

He nodded reassuringly as her soft plea for gentleness ghosted against his skin on her breath. While kindness wasn't in his nature, he found it easy to indulge her, pressing his lips to her forehead as he slowly entered her. She tensed a bit, but forced herself to relax; to her great relief, it didn't hurt nearly as bad as before. There was hardly any pain at all. After a few moments, Sebastian stroked her cheek, one eyebrow arched in question.

She nodded, answering his unspoken inquiry by wrapping her legs around his waist and arching her hips into his, encouraging him to move. "Go ahead. It doesn't hurt now."

Groaning as she moved against him, around him, he began to piston his hips in a fluid, sinuous rhythm. She raked her nails down his back, new scratches blending in with the old, and the sting on his skin only fueled his desire. He tugged the rubber band from her hair and combed his fingers though the silky strands, pulling out the braid that Grell had twisted it into earlier. She looked so free, so uninhibited with her maple-colored hair spread out on his pillow, eyes rolling back with pleasure and soft mews of bliss flowing past her kiss-swollen lips.

Lyra held on for dear life as he moved within her, his lips moving restlessly from her mouth to her throat to her chest. Nothing else had ever felt so wonderful, including the times he'd slept with her before. The pleasure she'd gotten from those encounters was tainted by the fact that she was unwilling, that she hadn't wanted him to make love to her. But now, this was the only thing she wanted; _he_ was the only thing she wanted. Now that her body was used to him, the pain had vanished, and she found herself enjoying the way he felt, the way that every so often he would change the angle of his hips and spend sparks up her spine, the way he covered her upper body with kisses. She even discovered that she liked kissing him back, curling her tongue around his, even pressing her lips to his throat and chest.

Suddenly, she felt the familiar tightening sensation in her lower stomach, felt her body clamping around him, but Sebastian didn't even slow down, even as her legs wrapped around his waist so rigidly that it would have left bruises on a normal human. She threw her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs as her orgasm overpowered her, choking out his name, her breath coming in harsh pants. Finally, she started coming down from her pleasurable high, but Sebastian was far from done with her.

Without missing a beat, he grabbed her hips and rolled them over, Lyra now straddling him. Her head still cloudy from her orgasm, she furrowed her brow in confusion, bracing her hands on his chest. "Wh-What…?"

"I thought a change of pace might be nice." He smiled and reached up to stroke her cheek. "After all, it's always good to try new things." His smile turned into a smirk as he ran his hand down her body.

"B-But I don't…" She moaned as the new position allowed him to slide deeper within her. "I don't know what to do."

"I'll show you, little one." He cupped one hand around the back of her neck to pull her down for a kiss, whispering against her lips. "I'll teach you, don't worry." Slowly, he pushed up into her, grabbing her hips and guiding her to move with him, his eyes glowing with every moan or gasp that he wrung from her. Within a few moments, she began to move on her own, rocking her hips back and forth and whimpering with pleasure as he clamped his hands around her waist to steady her. In this new position, she was able to take so much more of him into her body, so now there was a bit of pain. Not enough that it made her want to stop, but it did bring a wince if Sebastian snapped his hips too roughly.

Soon, it was the demon's turn to grow tense as he neared his end, and he sat up, pulling her into his lap and kissing her deeply, his hands stroking and teasing her breasts as the two of them continued to move against each other in a fluid rhythm. Finally, their skin slicked with sweat and their bodies straining, Lyra clutched at him, crying out his name as she came for the second time, Sebastian following a moment later. Quietly, almost reverently, she heard him murmuring her name, his own climax making his voice sound rough with passion. As they fell back onto the bedspread, their chests rising and falling, the girl glanced over at him, her eyes sleepy and half-lidded. "Wow…"

He smiled and pulled her close, pushing her damp hair out of her eyes. "Did you expect anything else?" The demon smirked. "After all, I am-"

"One hell of a lover. Yes, I know." She allowed herself a small smile, then curled up on his chest with a yawn. "I hope you don't mind sharing a bed tonight. After that, I'll be surprised if I can walk tomorrow."

Sebastian laughed, stroking her hair. "I certainly have no problem with that, pet. We've shared a bed before."

She snuggled against him, offering no reply other than a soft sigh, her breath feathering against his bare skin. It was silent for several long moments before Lyra muttered, "Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"Um…can demons…feel like humans can?"

"You mean emotions?"

"Yeah."

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "Well, not exactly, no." The dark-haired demon paused, running his fingertips up and down her spine. "For the purpose of comparison, imagine your favorite food. You've eaten it so many times that you can recall the flavor exactly. You can almost imagine that you're savoring it right now…but that's all it is. Your imagination." It might have been his light touch that made her shiver, but probably not. "When a demon consumes a human soul, traces of their flavor, their emotion, stay with us. We can imitate human concepts like happiness, sadness, or anger, but we cannot truly feel them for ourselves."

"So you can pass for human, but you'll never feel like one."

"Exactly, little one."

She was silent for a few moments, then asked, "If a demon ate enough souls…if they absorbed enough human emotion, would it change that?"

"I don't know. There's only one demon I can think of that might have experienced a brief spell of humanity…but she's long been dead."

"Who was it?"

He grimaced. "Hannah Annafellows."

Lyra's brows knitted together. "I know that name…she was involved with the Trancy thing, wasn't she? She's the one that turned Ciel into a demon…"

"Yes." His tone was just a touch more curt, so she remained quiet, hoping she hadn't upset him with the memory. "When she was summoned by Luka Macken, his singular and unique wish astounded her. She had never met another human like him, willing to sacrifice his life to bring his brother happiness. When the time came, she consumed his soul dutifully, but regretfully." Sebastian let out a slow breath. "It may be that the affection she felt for Luka, and the boy's own fierce love for his brother combined and overwhelmed her, creating the false impression that she felt love for Luka and Alois…or perhaps, for a moment, she felt true humanity for herself."

"But you don't think she did."

He kissed her temple. "No, I do not think it's possible for demons to feel as humans do. All we have are wisps of memory, illusions and phantasms of the impossible." He combed his fingers through her hair, wrapping his arm more securely around her waist. "Sleep now, my lady." She could hear the smirk in his voice as he added, "I must have exhausted you."

"Cocky bastard."

He laughed. "I'm going to have to do something about that vulgar tongue of yours, aren't I?"

"My tongue and all its vulgarities are none of your concern."

"_Au contraire_," he purred, tilting her face up with a curled finger the kissing her. His tongue slid into her mouth, curling sinuously around hers, teasing the sensitive underside. "Your tongue concerns me greatly."

"Mmm…" She sighed, licking her lips, then lowered her head onto his chest. "You think you can turn off the charm long enough for me to get some sleep?"

"I suppose so."

She smiled, closing her eyes. After a few moments, she whispered almost inaudibly, "Thank you."

Minutes later, she was dozing peacefully, her breathing slow and steady. The last coherent thought she had before drifting off was, _Being with Sebastian might not be so bad after all…even if he is a demon._

__**XXX**

The demon laid awake, his arms curled in a cage around his little captive. A satisfied smirk curled on his lips, his eyes pulsing with a faint scarlet luminescence. Things were moving much faster than he had anticipated; the poor girl was more tender-hearted than he'd thought. _If this keeps up, I won't be on the mortal plane for much longer. Two months, three at the most._ It had been difficult to refrain from touching her despite the powerful lusts of _mæccea_ still calling from deep within him. Especially when they had been watching films together downstairs. Her fragrance, completely her own and free of any traces of demoness, had been more seductive than any siren call; the glow of her milky skin in the shifting light of the television almost compelled him to pin her to the cushions and taste every inch of her.

For the purpose of his endeavor, however, he restrained his urges so she would be more at ease around him. If she didn't fear an unwanted advance, it would be easier for him to gain her trust. He simply hadn't expected her to trust him so soon. He chuckled quietly to himself, a sinister sound that didn't linger in the air. It was almost as if she _wanted_ to trust him, desperate to find anything that would justify her hopeful weakness. He'd been hoping that capturing her heart would be more of a challenge, hoping that she wouldn't be as predictable as the women he'd seduced in the past. But she was young, still just a child, not to mention inexperienced, vulnerable, and too trusting for her own good. A beautiful instrument that was pliant to his will, and nothing more. The girl was naïve enough to believe that she brought out good in him, that with her kindness, she could change his nature. He supposed that was the reason behind her questions earlier.

His thoughts soon drifted into calmer waters, and he found himself comparing Lyra to his master. They were as different as day from night, and the dissimilarities amused him. After his parent's murder, Ciel used his hatred and anger as strength, distancing himself from frivolous things like compassion and forgiveness, always driving himself toward his ultimate goal of revenge. However, when Lyra's father died, there was no revenge to be had. She hadn't cast the blame on God, as many did when a loved one was taken. Her devout faith was a testament to that. In fact, Sebastian doubted that she had a single antagonistic bone in her body. True, she claimed to hate him, but she had given into his manipulation with ease, taking only a matter of days. It was unlikely that her claim had been sincere; the girl simply didn't have it in her to hate. She was a pure soul, which is why he found her so attractive, why he wanted to possess her so fiercely. Only one thing stood in his way of conquering her completely.

The unknown demoness.

The smirk disappeared from his face; though no trace of the foreign scent remained, the threat still lingered. It was possible that the demoness was a friend of Lyra's, masquerading as human in order to get close to her. After all, the smell had been on her clothes, her hair, her skin. A chance encounter wouldn't have saturated her so strongly. A growl rumbled deep in his chest before he could stop it, and Lyra stirred, disturbed by the vibration in her ear. He hushed her, stroking her hair and urging her back to sleep. For a moment, he wondered if he should tell her his suspicions and warn her to beware. Sebastian closed his eyes with a sigh; no, telling her would serve no purpose. He could handle the problem without alerting her to it; he would simply have to keep a close watch on her.

When the first hints of sunlight began to seep into the horizon, he carefully gathered her in his arms and carried her down the hall to her bedroom, walking smoothly so he wouldn't wake her. There were a few things he needed to take care of before she woke. Lying her down on her bed, he smoothed her hair back from her face, smiling as she made a quiet, sleepy sound, like a sigh from a dream. He pulled the curtains around her so the rising sun would not disturb her rest, and as he left the room, he looked back and softly whispered, "Sweet dreams, my lady."

* * *

><p><em>Hello, lovelies! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Because I did. The last half just wrote itself. :) Anyways, please review, because you know I love to hear from you! Cheers!<em>


	6. Chapter 6

To Lyra's surprise, they spent the next few days together quite comfortably. Sebastian had her things brought over from her apartment, her remaining rent paid in full. Lyra donated the furniture that they had no need of to the Goodwill, much to the demon's amusement. The girl was nervous at first when they brought Ludus to the new house, fearing that he would run away and become lost. Sebastian had laughed and reassured her that the cat would return when it had finished exploring.

Two days after they had settled in together, the demon approached her with the proposition that she quit her job. Lyra, until that moment complacent, put her foot down. "I like my job," she protested. "I like meeting people I otherwise wouldn't have met. Besides, it gives me something to do. It gives me a purpose. It makes me feel useful." Sebastian couldn't persuade her otherwise, so he dropped the subject. Of course, he still insisted on coming with her; if he couldn't keep her at home, he could at least keep an eye out inside her head.

By far though, the most interesting and amusing aspect of the young woman's adjustment to her life with Sebastian was watching her explain the situation to the people she interacted with. Of course, her co-workers and customers were all curious about the sleek Aston Martin she now drove to work instead of her clunky old Chevy. The poor girl blushed to the roots of her hair when she had to mutter the phrase, "It's my boyfriend's car." She didn't consider Sebastian to be her boyfriend in any sense of the word; just saying the word in association with him made her want to take a shower. She didn't really know what exactly he was to her; "lover" might have been an accurate description, but it still felt too romantic for their circumstance.

One afternoon, Lyra received a phone call from her mother, inviting her over to dinner later that evening. Lyra realized she hadn't seen her mother in over three weeks, and suddenly felt very homesick. Still, there were complications now. Other things she had to consider.

"I…I don't know, Mom. I might be busy."

As if on cue, Sebastian entered the room behind her, gently squeezing her shoulders and kissing the top of her had. "Who is it, love?"

"Lyra? Who was that?"

The girl swore to herself. "Just a friend, Mom."

"_Just_ a friend?" Sebastian's tone was amused.

"Knock it off."

"They can come too, there's plenty." The woman paused. "I miss you, dolly."

She sighed. "I miss you too, Mom." The girl chewed on her lip, weighing the pros and cons, then ducked her head. "Alright, we'll be there. Is six-thirty okay?"

"Perfect. Love you, dolly."

"Love you too." Lyra hung up, then buried her face in her hands. "Oh, God…"

Sebastian laughed, sitting beside her. "So, do I finally get to meet your family?"

"I was hoping I could avoid it, but I guess you're going to have to." She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, then raised her head. "I have some rules, and I swear to God, if you break them, I'm cutting you off for a month."

The demon smirked. "Such fearsome threats, my lady." He leaned back against the arm of the sofa and gestured. "And your demands are?"

"One, don't tell her we're living together. Two, don't tell her we're sleeping together. And three, you cannot let it slip that you are anything other than human."

He arched one eyebrow, still looking quite amused. "Anything else?"

She narrowed her eyes at him in return. "If I think of anything, I'll let you-" Her gaze dropped to her left hand. "Oh God. The marks. We'll have to cover those up." She clenched her right hand into a fist, as if to hide the crimson pentagram. "If she sees these, she'll know something's up. She'll ask questions, and I can't pass this off as a tattoo."

"Why not?"  
>She glared at him. "Last time I checked, tattoos didn't glow like this." The color, while not exactly glowing, did possess a strange luminescence that she knew could not be accomplished with normal ink. "Besides, the colors don't look natural. She'd know something was off."<p>

"Is she that perceptive?"

Lyra nodded. "Yes, she is. If something's not right with one of her kids, she instantly knows. Mother's intuition." She smiled, though it was half-hearted. "If I cough once, she brings me a month's worth of cold medicine."

He smiled. "She sounds like a remarkable woman."

"She is." Lyra sighed, rubbing her forehead again. "Okay…okay, I'll bandage my hand. We'll say I slipped with a knife. You…" She bit her lip. "Can you wear gloves or something?"

Sebastian nodded. "I believe so."

"Okay." She raked a hand through her hair. "This is going to be the most uncomfortable dinner of my life."

The demon laughed and ruffled her hair playfully. "Your optimism is an inspiration, my lady."

Two and a half hours later, they pulled into the driveway of the attractive ranch-style house where Lyra's mother and younger brother lived. She insisted on taking her car, saying that the Aston Martin would attract too much attention, especially from her brother, who was a bit of a car enthusiast. The demon had to admit, it was entertaining to watch Lyra scramble in panicky disarray to cover up all traces of his nature, even going so far as to procure colored contact lenses to cover his crimson eyes and brushing a clear coat of nail polish on his fingernails, so that the black color would look artificial.

Before she got out of the car, she turned to the demon and put her hand on his arm. "Just behave yourself, okay? Please. This is important to me. If my mother found out that I…" She trailed off, biting her lip. Sebastian took her hand and gently kissed her fingertips.

"You have my word, Lyra," he murmured reassuringly.

"Okay." She unbuckled her seatbelt, then almost as an afterthought, she leaned over again and kissed him. When she pulled away, she whispered, "As a little added incentive, if you pull this off, I'll make it worth your while when we get back home."

"Oh, really?" He purred, stroking a cool finger down her throat. "In that case, I shan't put a toe out of line."

"Glad to hear it."

Lyra felt her stomach rolling with anxiety as they came in through the garage. She took a deep breath, then opened the door into the family room. Instantly, a sixty-five pound ball of energetic Labrador came scrambling into the room, nails clicking on the wood floor, jumping up on its hind legs and licking the girl's chin. Sebastian took a step back, his eyes narrowing in distaste, but Lyra laughed and threw her arms around the creature, scratching it behind the ears and holding its paws so it would stay upright. "Hi there, Penny! Who's a good puppy? Huh? Are you a good pup? Did you miss your sissy? Did you miss her, puppy?"

The demon couldn't help a small smile as he watched the young woman play with her dog, rubbing its belly when it flopped onto its back. While he wasn't fond of the animals and didn't understand why anyone would be, the pure joy he saw on Lyra's face could only be described as _adorable._

"Hi, dolly!" A woman who looked like a middle-aged version of Lyra walked into the room, embracing her daughter. The two of them laughed as the dog continued to jump, eager to join in on their hug.

"Hi, Mom."

When they broke apart, Lyra's mother glanced over at Sebastian. To the woman's credit, she hid her surprise well, reaching out one hand and smiling brightly. "Hi!"

"Hello," he replied, returning her smile and shaking her hand.

"Mom, I'd like you to meet Sebastian Michaelis. Sebastian, this is my mother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

True to his word, the demon was pleasant all evening, offering to help Lyra's mother in the kitchen and answering all of her questions dutifully and without hesitation. Lyra had wanted to see her brother, but her mother informed her that he was eating dinner at his girlfriend's house and would not be joining them. Despite this, Lyra relaxed, enjoying being at home again, being with her family again. Only once did she worry about being discovered.

"What'd you do to your hand, birdie?"

The girl had shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I was making dinner and I got myself with the knife."

"You want me to look at it?" Her mother being a nurse at a college where many dumb kids did dumb things, she was good with small wounds and injuries.

Lyra's stomach flipped and her heart rose into her throat. "No, that's fine. It's not that big of a deal."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She glanced over at the demon, who was smirking. "Sebastian took good care of it, and it's really not that deep. I just used a big bandage because the little ones wouldn't stick."

Her mother nodded slowly, her expression clearly indicating that she knew Lyra wasn't telling the truth, but she wasn't going to press the issue. At the end of the night, just as Lyra and Sebastian were about to leave, her mother jerked her head toward the front room. "Lyra, can I talk to you for a sec?"

_Shit._

The girl swallowed and fought to keep her panic down as she followed her mother. When they were safe from prying ears, the woman fixed Lyra with a searching stare.

"So…Sebastian."

"What about him?"

"Is he your boyfriend?" She fussed with her rings, clearly worried about something. Lyra fidgeted, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Don't you think he's a bit old for you?"

The girl's cheeks turned red; they'd told her mother that Sebastian was twenty-five, but she had a feeling that his vocabulary and obsolescent speech pattern might give him away. "Mom, he's only five years older than me."

"I know." She looked like she wanted to say more, but she shook her head slightly, raising her hands to shoulder level. She was silent for a moment longer, then asked, "You two are being safe, right?"

"Mom!"

"What? It's a legitimate question."

Lyra sighed and hid her face in her hands, her blush creeping down her neck. Her voice was small as she answered, "Yes, Mom. We're being safe." This was a lie; they had never used any form of protection, but telling her mother the truth would only provoke a lecture and, God forbid, the handing out of contraceptives. A thought occurred to her; was it possible for Sebastian to get her pregnant? Could demons even have children? The thought that she might be carrying his child scared her, but she fought it back so her mother wouldn't suspect something was wrong.

"Okay." Lyra looked up to see a smile on her mother's face. "He is pretty cute…so good job."

"…Really?"

"Really."

"Thanks." Lyra was dumbstruck. Her mother actually _approved_ of Sebastian? The demon was a better actor than she gave him credit for. She suppressed a groan; she was going to owe him big-time for this. "Well, we better be going. Thanks for supper."

"You're welcome, dolly." The two embraced, then Lyra left with Sebastian, chewing on her lip. Two blocks from her mother's house, she sighed.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"Is it possible for you to…?" She struggled to get the words out. "To get me pregnant?"

He laughed. "Is that what your mother wanted to speak to you about?"

"Kind of." She picked at a crack in the rubber of her steering wheel. "I'm actually amazed that this didn't occur to me sooner."

He reached over to twine a lock of her hair around his finger. "Worry not. Demons cannot reproduce sexually. We are barren creatures, love."

Goosebumps broke out on her skin as his knuckles softly grazed her neck. "Then…how are demons born? Or created, or whatever?"

"Demons are the spawn of every negative, evil, or malicious craving within the human heart. We spring into being when there is a particularly high concentration of malevolent intent. For instance, war breeds thousands of demons."

She blinked. "So…demons come from the evil that humans create?"

"Precisely."

She shivered a bit, wondering what sort of sinister event Sebastian had been bred from.

When they pulled into the drive of their house, the demon leaned over and trailed his fingertips up her thigh. "I believe you promised to make this evening worth my while?"

She bit her lip, but didn't stop him. "How do you know she bought it?"

He smirked. "Oh, I think I won her over. It's been a long time since anyone referred to me as 'cute.'"

The girl squeaked as his hand inched higher. "You were listening?"

"Perhaps."

She turned cherry-red and clapped her hand over her eyes. "Oh, God…"

Sebastian chuckled. "You should feel flattered that she's so worried about you."

"Really? All I feel right now is embarrassed."

The demon nipped at her ear, kissing at her neck. "Would you like me to help you feel something else, my lady?"

She sighed, then turned her head, clumsily kissing the corner of his mouth. "I suppose a did promise." A small grin curled on her lips. "Go upstairs and wait for me."

"Your room or mine."

"Yours, please."

"As you wish." He tilted her chin up and gave her a short but heated kiss. "Don't be long, pet."

She lingered for a moment after he was gone, savoring the feel of his lips on hers, then dashed up to her room. Hidden within her giant closet was a bright pink bag that held something she'd been saving for an occasion like this. Her best friend from high school, Skye, had bought this for her when she turned eighteen, as sort of a gag gift. She'd never worn it, too embarrassed to even think of a situation where she might need to wear something like this. But now, she finally had a use for it. Her cheeks reddened as she drew it out of the bag, but she took a deep breath and started undressing. She had made a promise, and she did not intend to break it.

Sebastian waited silently, patiently, sitting on his bed with his legs crossed and smirking to himself. Just what sort of surprise did his little darling have in store for him? Suddenly, there was a gentle tapping at his door, and he leaned back on his hands, his smirk deepening. "Come in, my dear."

The door slowly swung open, revealing the young woman standing on the threshold and clothed in a very revealing silk and lace ensemble. Impossibly delicate black lace covered her breasts, with panties that matched. A silk robe of deep purple flowed from her shoulders to her hips, the color making her creamy pale skin look incredibly appetizing. It was obvious that she felt ridiculous in this getup, but it was certainly having its intended effect. Sebastian's desire surged within him so strongly that it was almost painful, and he relished the intense sensation.

"Lyra…"

She smiled coyly, encouraged by his evident arousal, and sauntered across the room, dropping the robe onto the floor as she went. "Do you like it?"

He stayed put, controlling the urge to pounce on her and ravish her on the carpet until she screamed. "You look delicious, pretty." He grinned, beckoning her to come closer. "I could eat you alive."

The girl smirked and lowered herself onto his lap, straddling his hips. "Ooh, that sounds like it could be fun." She leaned in and kissed him, sliding her hands around his neck as he curled one arm around her waist. Their tongues twisted around each other like serpents, Lyra's body going weak as she combed her fingers through his thick black hair. Slowly, she slid one hand to his collar and began unbuttoning his shirt, slipping each button open with a sweet shyness that made the demon smirk against her lips. Lyra's mouth moved from his, kissing the line of his jaw and down to his neck, her hands sliding over his bared chest, pushing his shirt halfway off his shoulders. A purr rumbled deep in Sebastian's throat as her soft, warm mouth kissing slowly down his chest, her firm bottom rubbing against him as she slid down to kiss a line down his stomach.

He tangled one hand in her soft curls, twining the strands around his fingers. "Do you think it wise to tempt a demon so recklessly, little one?"

For a moment, she felt an icy stab of fear, but when she glanced up at him, his scarlet eyes did not threaten her. "Oh, am I tempting you?" The girl feigned innocence. "Do you want me to stop?"

He laughed softly, his eyes burning into hers. "Not at all, pet. In fact, I think I like this more depraved side of you."

She blushed, but kissed lower, until she was kneeling on the floor between his legs. He groaned, the feel of her hot mouth on his stomach almost making him come undone. The demon leaned back and watched her as her shaking hands unfastened his pants, hissing a bit as the cool air hit his hot, rigid length.

"Oh…"

Lyra squeaked, swallowing hard. She'd seen him before, but never this close. The area between her legs throbbed at just the sight of it, and she hesitantly wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly.

Sebastian gave an approving growl as she touched him, his eyes narrowing with pleasure. This was exactly how he'd wanted to see her; wanton, abandoning all pretense of purity and embracing her carnal desires. A pious choir girl who had lost herself within the sins of the flesh. True, he loved the skimpy clothing and the way she touched him, but what thrilled him the most was seeing her innocence being corrupted.

She stroked him slowly at first, then faster, feeling an increasing need to please him. After a few moments, he grabbed her hair harshly, pulling her head up so he could look into her eyes. Lyra gasped as the demon growled not with pleasure, but need, his pupils becoming black slits as his irises began to glow. She knew almost instinctively what he wanted, and as he relaxed his grip on her hair, she lowered her head, her lips parting. Slowly, looking up at him through her lashes to gauge his reaction, she ran her tongue softly up the underside of his length, moaning quietly.

He groaned, clenching the bedspread in his fists as she torturously licked him again and again. Her tongue felt so soft and wet and warm against his skin, her eyes like emeralds and honey, warm and bright as she stared up at him. Sebastian allowed himself a small taste of what was going through her mind, and he purred at the strength of her desire, her need to please him, as well as a fierce longing to have him touch her back.

With a devilish smirk, the girl suddenly wrapped her lips around him and took him into her mouth, sucking lightly and feeling a surge of triumph as Sebastian gave a particularly loud groan. "Little minx," he whispered, his breath coming just a little bit quicker. It was apparent that she was a novice, but he had to admit, she was better at this than he had anticipated.

Lyra moaned around him as his hands twisted in her hair, pulling it back so he could see her face. She'd felt weird about it at first, but eventually, the descriptive stories and smutty romance novels she'd read in the past finally proved useful. The way he groaned and arched ever so slightly, the pure lust and desire that crackled in his eyes when he looked at her; it turned her on like nothing else. Her skin burned, ached for his touch. Her entire body trembled, eager to feel him on top of her, within her. She could no longer deny how good it felt, couldn't pretend that she didn't want it. Some part of her realized how bad it was, how sinful and wrong her lusts were, but she couldn't help herself.

Soon, he tensed up, his hands fisting so tightly in her hair that it hurt a bit. She raked her nails down his thigh, sucking hard and swirling her tongue against his flesh. She was worried that he would choke her when he released, but Sebastian's grip prevented her from pulling back. Suddenly, he stiffened, pushing her head down, and climaxed powerfully into her mouth. The girl gagged a bit as the hot fluid ran down her throat, but managed to swallow it as he finally released her, smirking down at her. She panted, wiping her lips on the back of her hand, then looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for signs of approval.

"How was that?"

Sebastian grabbed her chin and pulled her up to kiss the corner of her mouth. "That was quite good for your first time, love." He pressed his lips to hers as his hand crept between her legs, rubbing her torturously. "It seems you enjoyed that almost as much as I did." She moaned, arching her back as he kissed down her chest, his lips leaving spots of heat on her skin. Lyra's hands clenched into fists as she felt his tongue sweep over her nipples through her bra, the sensation driving her crazy.

"A-ah…please…"

With a short growl, he tore the offending fabric away from her breasts, flinging the tattered scraps of lace into the corner.

"Hey," the girl groaned weakly, helpless to protest as he pushed her onto her back. "My friend Skye gave me that as a birthday present."

Sebastian smirked up at her. "Remind me to thank her." Just as quickly, he ripped her panties into shreds, grabbing her hips and pushing into her without so much as a warning. She shrieked, raking her nails down his back as he drove into her mercilessly, becoming almost feral in his need. Lyra whimpered and clung to him, arching her hips in time with him, her legs wrapped around his waist. She understood now why some people preferred rougher sex; there was something raw about it, something freeing. She still favored the gentle, tender method of lovemaking, but it was nice to know that she could still enjoy herself if Sebastian was a bit brutal with her.

The demon, hell-bent on hearing his little lover cry out, rocking his hips in an almost frantic rhythm, kissing her passionately. As worked up as she'd gotten from her earlier actions, it took no time at all to feel her body tightening around him, his lips pressed against her throat to feel the vibrations of her screams. He rolled, flipping them so that she was straddling him, and with hardly a moment's hesitation, she starting rolling her hips, pushing herself up and down on his length. He went to grab her waist, but she quickly took hold of his wrists, holding his arms down against his chest.

"Not so fast. I think I can handle this on my own."

He smirked and easily broke her grasp. "As you wish, my lady." Her slid his hands up her sides and cupped them over her breasts, her nipples as hard as pebbles against his palms. He rubbed the sensitive buds with his fingertips as she rode him, his teeth slightly bared as her moans grew louder. This was what he'd wanted from the beginning, the vision he'd had since he first laid eyes on her; this sweet girl with her eyes glazed over in lust, desiring him, wanting his touch, his kisses. Craving the pleasure only he could give her. She very nearly belonged to him now, and as soon as she made a contract, he would possess her entirely. His mouth watered in anticipation; the day of her surrender could not come soon enough.

His hand crept between her legs against, rubbing that little hill until she flew screaming into her second orgasm. Lyra collapsed on top of him, panting heavily, her hair in beautiful curled disarray. "Sebastian…I can't take any more…"

The demon chuckled. "I'd have thought your stamina would be much greater by now, my lady."

She narrowed her eyes, though since her face was buried in his chest, her poisonous glare was wasted. "Shut up. I can't help it if you're exhausting."

His laugh was louder now. "Ah, I see. Then I suppose I can take the blame for your weakness." She growled at him, but he simply smirked and flipped them over again, lying her on her back so she could at least relax in comfort as he finished. As he came for the second time, he groaned and murmured something in another language, the words lilting and foreign, like music from a magical realm. She couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at his words. He swept her hair out of her face, kissed her, and tried to roll over onto his back, but she locked her arms around his neck, her eyes silently pleading with him to stay where he was. If he rolled over, he would undoubtedly pull her into his chest, and she was far too comfortable to move. Besides, she liked the feel of his body on top of hers, warm and solid and secure. Sebastian smile and laid down with his arms around her, his head pillowed on her breasts, and closed his eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair. They were silent for several long moments, just enjoying the feel of being so close, then Lyra spoke.

"What did it mean?"

He raised his head slightly, arching his eyebrows. "Hm?"

"You lapsed into another language at the end…what did you say?"

He smiled softly. "It was a spell of sorts in ancient Gaelic."

"What kind of spell?"

His grin widened. "An enchantment to keep demons and evil spirits away."

Lyra couldn't help a small giggle. "It's a bit too late for that, don't you think?"

Sebastian laughed as well. "Forgive me, my lady. Many hundreds of years ago, I had a lover who was unaware of my true nature. After a particularly vigorous round of lovemaking, she would always mutter that spell to herself. She believed that after a powerful orgasm, the soul was left weakened and would be easy prey for the fiends of Hell." He grinned, his eyes sparkling with dark mirth. "I found the irony of it simply delightful, and have repeated the spell ever since. A sort of private joke."

Lyra nibbled on her lip. "If you don't mind me asking…how old are you, exactly?"

He reached up and stroked her cheek. "By human standards, I'm well over a thousand years old, my lady."

Her eyes widened almost comically. "Oh my God…I was expecting a couple of centuries, but a _thousand years…?_"

"Believe me, love, by demon standards, I'm still fairly young." His smirk deepened as he ran his fingertips down her neck, feeling her shiver beneath him.

She sighed. "It's strange…I've known you for what, almost a month now? And I still know hardly anything about you."

He smirked, brushing his lips against the skin between her breasts. "You only needed to ask, pet. I had no idea you were so curious."

She closed her eyes, sighing and smiling at the touch of his warm mouth against her skin. "Well, I've always been good at reading other people. What they're feeling, their strengths and weaknesses, character traits. But you, I can't figure out, and I guess I felt stupid for needing to ask."

The demon laughed quietly, his breath like the tickle of feathers. "Well, feel free to ask your questions, my lady. I am an open book."

Lyra returned to stroking his hair, combing her fingers lazily through the strands. "Well…how many contracts have you made?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Is that something you truly wish to know?"

She shivered at the look in his eyes. "I guess not."

He smirked. "That is how I eat, after all."

Lyra quickly changed the subject, unwilling to speculate just how many souls he'd consumed. "How many languages do you know?"

"Well over a hundred. English, Spanish, French, Italian, German, Japanese, Chinese, Hindi, Portuguese, Welsh, Romanian, Russian, Gaelic, and Polish, to name a few. As well as several dead languages."

"Well, aren't you fancy?" She smiled, liking the way his laugh rumbled against her belly, pleased by the fact that she could make him laugh. It still astounded her how quickly she'd grown comfortable with Sebastian, considering all that he had done to her. She liked being with him, not just sexually, but casually as well. He was considerate and kind to her, always touching her gently and speaking to her in a soft, if somewhat obsolescent way. She had always been a sucker for Victorian speech and vocabulary, and with that sensuous British accent, there was no way she could resist. It was easy for her to forget that he was a demon, that he was everything she had been taught to fear. She let herself ignore his dark nature, embracing the romantic veil he shrouded himself with. She was fully aware that the man she had come to know was most likely an act, that demons shouldn't be so loving toward their prey. Still…some part of her, despite what he had told her about his kind's lack of human emotion, felt that his actions might be sincere. That he might truly care about her. Either way, she didn't allow herself to dwell on it, choosing to see only the mask he put on, because it made living with him so much easier. For the time being, she could fool herself into thinking that he might really be fond of her, that everything was and would be okay. Pushing aside the unsavory aspects of her reality and focusing on what was good, even if it was a false comfort, had always been a specialty of hers.

"Are you alright, my lady? You're terribly quiet all of a sudden."

She nodded, sighing a bit. "Yeah. Sorry, I got lost in thought for a moment."

"Shall I let you rest, or do you have more questions for me?"

The girl thought for a minute, then murmured, "Tell me about Ciel."

There was a beat of silence. "Why does my young master suddenly intrigue you?"

Lyra shrugged. "Well, the two of you went through a lot together, and he's obviously important to you. I'd kind of like to know more about him."

Slowly, the demon smiled. "He's very prideful, full of determination and singular ambition. He can be arrogant at times, but that is to be expected of a young man of noble birth. He does not tolerate foolishness or frivolity." He chuckled softly, as if reliving a good memory. "Though, like any child, he was quite fond of sweets."

That made the young woman smile. "Good. He should enjoy some aspects of being a little boy. Someone that young shouldn't have to be so grown up." Her fingertips lazily traced the ridge of Sebastian's shoulder blade. "He must have been a fascinating kid."

"Indeed he was." His scarlet eyes closed, and for the first time in many years, he felt as if he might actually sleep. The girl was certainly drifting away, her lashes brushing her cheeks as her breathing slowed. The demon noted with amusement that she still scrunched up her brow in her sleep, as if thinking very hard. He leaned up and kissed her brow, then rolled over onto his back, pulling her against him. She murmured sleepily in protest of the movement, but was too far gone for her words to be coherent. Sebastian smirked, hushed her gently, and closed his eyes.

A week passed. Then another. The two of them, a demon and his human lover, were getting along remarkably well, considering the tense and hostile circumstances at the beginning of their time together. Sebastian had adapted so precisely to her moods that he could almost predict them, knowing which days she would be vivacious and joyful, and which days filled her with melancholy. Fortunately for him, the latter happened very seldomly. She in turn accepted and even embraced his more sinister personality, letting him be rough with her in the bedroom when he needed to be, because the tender, romantic moments they shared were worth enduring a little pain. Sebastian had cunningly molded her into everything he desired in a lover; submissive and innocent, but still feisty, able to take command if he wanted a change of pace. She had become his in more ways than she could imagine, and though he still hungered for her soul, the little tastes he received when they made lover were enough to tide him over until the day she made a contract.

One of the things that Lyra was surprised and overjoyed to discover was Sebastian's talent in the kitchen, particularly at baking. Something that had always soothed her was baking gingerbread on a chilly fall afternoon, the air heavy and fragrant. They conversed happily in the warm kitchen, smudging flour across each other's cheeks as their treats baked. It was exactly like something out of a cheesy romance movie, but she enjoyed every second of it, regardless of how cliché it was.

All that cooking, of course, required ingredients and supplies. One crisp Saturday, they were walking through the grocery store for the items that they needed. Lyra insisted on paying for half, even though she knew Sebastian could buy a year's worth of groceries and then some. It would be easy for her to become completely dependent on him, but she refused to allow herself to be taken care of. She wasn't helpless or weak, and it was important to her that Sebastian knew it. While in the produce section, Lyra encountered a familiar, yet unexpected face.

"Lyra! Hi!"

_Oh God._

She smiled back, trying to ignore the guilty turning of her stomach. "Hi, Susan."

The fifty-ish woman's warm brown eyes slid expectantly over to the demon. "And who is this?"

"Oh. Susan, this is Sebastian Michaelis, a friend of mine." Sebastian's eyes flashed with intrigue as she faltered on the word "friend." He extended a hand with a smile as Lyra continued. "Sebastian, this is Susan Daniels. My pastor."

His pleasant expression didn't change, though his eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit; Lyra was unable to tell if he was repulsed or amused. "A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Daniels."

"Likewise." She shook his hand warmly, completely unaware of his true nature. "It's good to see you , Lyra. It's been a while since you've come to church. We were getting a bit worried."

She nibbled at her lip, shoving her hands in her pockets and trying to look contrite, but not guilty. "Well, I've been pretty busy lately. Work's been crazy, you know." It was a lie that she had told many times before, yet she was still surprised at how easily it rolled off her tongue.

Susan nodded. "Uh-huh. Well, are we going to see you tomorrow?" She smiled. "The ladies really miss hearing you sing."

Her eyes darted momentarily to Sebastian. "I don't know…I think we're going to be busy tomorrow."

To her horror, Sebastian said, "Oh, I think our schedule is clear tomorrow." He turned to Susan with a charming smile. "We'll be there with bells on, Ms. Daniels."

She smiled brightly in return. "Great! We'll see you tomorrow morning, Lyra. Nice to meet you, Sebastian." Her end of the conversation complete, she pushed her cart away, heading for the frozen foods.

Once her pastor was out of sight, Lyra rounded on Sebastian, her eyes bright with panic. "Are you insane?" Her voice was a low hiss, her lips drawn back over her teeth. "We can't go to church!"

"Whyever not? I think it could be interesting." His smirk had returned, one eyebrow arched mischievously.

"But you're a de-!" She pressed her lips together, not wanting to even say the word in a public place, lest she be overheard.

"I'm perfectly aware of my nature, Lyra." He folded his arms, his eyes still gleaming with amusement.

She rubbed her forehead in frustration. "Can you even go inside a church?"

"Why shouldn't I? It's just a building."

"A holy building."

He laughed. "Churches are rarely as sacred as humans would believe them to be. Few people truly have enough faith to make them so."

Her eyes narrowed. "Will it…do anything to you? Will it hurt you?"

Sebastian smirked. "The worst it could do is give me a slight headache." His grin widened. "Honestly, it would be worth enduring a bit of discomfort just to watch you fidgeting with anxiety in your pew."

She smacked him on the shoulder, though it was light. "You are going to kill me one of these days."

As she pushed their cart toward the check-out counter, his smirk grew dark, his eyes pulsing a faint scarlet. He muttered too low for anyone to hear, "That's the idea."

The next morning, Lyra rose uncharacteristically early, making sure she had plenty of time to get ready. Sebastian chuckled as she fussed around her bedroom, trying on outfit after outfit. After the fourth time she changed her clothes, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her down onto his lap. "You needn't fret, love. It's only a mid-morning service." He kissed her briefly. "You look lovely as you are."

She kissed him back, though it was quick and rather absent-minded. "You don't understand, I have to wear just the right outfit. I can't look too nice or people will wonder where I got the money for the clothes, and I can't dress too casually because they'll think I don't want to be there." She whined in frustration. "If they suspect something's wrong, they'll dig and pry until they find out."

"Are these women overprotective, or just meddlesome?"

She smiled. "A little of both." Relaxing, she wound her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "They're like my family, so they worry about me." She smiled gently, sighing. "I have to admit, though, I'm kind of excited to see Angie again."

"Oh?"

"Angie's like my second mom. She and I used to teach Sunday School to the little ones, and sometimes we'd do special music together. She'd play the piano, and I'd sing." She sighed again, he breath feathering against his neck. "I miss that."

He smirked, twisted a curl of her hair around his finger. "I see."

Forty-five minutes later, they pulled up in front of the welcoming brick structure, the marquee out front declaring GRACE UNITED METHODIST CHURCH. She smiled, turning off the car and unbuckling her seat belt. She had insisted once again that they take her Chevy, and Sebastian had of course conceded. Her outfit was bright, but conservative, wearing a pair of bootcut jeans and a silky, colorful top. He himself was dressed in dark jeans, black shoes, and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, with a pair of black fingerless gloves on his hands to hide the seal. Lyra had bandaged her hand again, sticking with the story that she had injured it. Her smile was bright and genuine as she was greeted, sticking out a hand to shake or holding her arms open for an embrace. Sebastian couldn't help a secretive little smile as a crowd of young children began to climb all over her, chattering away as she laughed and crouched to hug them. She would have made a wonderful mother, eventually. His smile widened at the knowledge that she would never bear children, that she would never marry or have a family of her own. All that potential for goodness corrupted and torn asunder by his own hand.

As the piano player-not Angie, to Lyra's disappointment-began to play the gathering music, they took a seat in the back. Since the weather had gotten colder, most of the elderly crowd sat up front where it was warm, so their pew was otherwise unoccupied, a small favor for which Lyra was thankful. She had to admit, it was nice to be back in her element. This building, these people; they were familiar, safe, comforting. Even so, she was worried to the point of nausea that Sebastian would do or say something suspicious.

The congregation settled into their seats with a chorus of creaking wood as Susan strode up to the pulpit, Bible in hand. Tapping the microphone to make sure it was on, she welcomed everybody and began the service with a prayer. Lyra closed her eyes, but peeked out from under her lashes to spy on her companion. His head was bowed reverently, his hands folded in his lap, but the small smirk on his lips gave him away. He wasn't praying, but simply enjoying this small mockery of the God who would never listen to him. She sighed, wishing she hadn't agreed to come, but it couldn't be helped now. As quietly as possible, she took a pencil and a collections envelope from the back of the pew in front of them, hastily scrawling _You doing okay? _on the back of the envelope and passing it to Sebastian. As the demon felt the paper nudge the side of his hand, he opened his eyes and read her note. His grin deepened; it was just adorable the way she was worried about his wellbeing. As if he would burst into flames during the Lord's Prayer. He tucked the envelope between the pages of a hymnal and thought, _Yes, my lady. I'm perfectly fine._

He almost laughed out loud as she gave a silvery little gasp of surprise. _I thought you could only do this when you were inside my head?_

_ My lady, I'm _always _inside your head._

She shivered. _Well, that's spooky._

_ More discreet than passing notes, I should think. Not very pious of you, my lady, to pass notes during the prayer._

_ Oh, shut up,_ she thought, but with no real venom in her tone. As the prayer concluded, they stood to sing the opening hymns. Sebastian didn't join in, but simply enjoyed the way Lyra poured her heart into the simple melodies. Her voice always seemed to resonate more deeply, her tone growing richer and fuller when she sang hymns. It interested him greatly.

After the opening songs came the scripture, read by an old woman in a floral print pantsuit. Sebastian, quickly bored with the sacred text, decided to amuse himself by tormenting his little pet. With a smirk, he sent her an image of her spread out on his bed, her wrists tied to the headboard with red silk scarves and wearing nothing but a sheer red bra and matching underwear. She gasped, her cheeks immediately turning red. _S-Sebastian, what the hell are you doing?_

_Entertaining myself, dear one._ His thoughts were a soft purr, dripping with lascivious intent. _The words of your God don't interest me…but I do so enjoy the lovely shade of crimson your cheeks are turning. _ The image began to move, showing how her chest heaved, how she fidgeted, pulling at the scarves. Lyra curled her hands into fists as the dark-haired demon entered the little mind-movie, wearing nothing but tight black pants slung low on his hips. He climbed onto the bed, crawling over her and wedging his thigh between her legs. She could almost hear herself moaning as she rubbed against him, his mouth at her neck.

_Dammit, Sebastian, stop! I can't be blushing like this in the middle of the service!_ She tried to force the image away, but his will was stronger than hers, and instead, the little scene grew more intense. Suddenly, the demon's head was down between her legs, his long tongue stroking the triangle of scarlet fabric at the meeting of her thighs. The poor girl had to clench her jaw to keep from moaning out loud, squeezing her legs shut to ease the throbbing ache she felt. Sebastian smirked, and as the pastor began passing the offering plate, he began mentally removing those lacy panties with his teeth. Lyra was shaking now as she watched the imaginary Sebastian sink two fingers into her wet folds, watched as her imaginary self arched her back, squirming with pleasure.

_Stop it…please…_

_Why should I? You can't deny that it excites you to watch what I could do to you._ His tone was bemused. _I've always wanted to tie you down before making love to you. Now that I know how much it thrills you, I shall have to try that once we get home._

She wanted to protest, wanted to put him out on the couch permanently for pulling a stunt like this in church, but with the way her body was heating up, craving his touch, his kisses, she was going to need him to relieve this tension. _Damn you,_ she gasped mentally, watching as imaginary Sebastian moved his fingers faster within her.

The demon kept his features arranged in a rather beatific smile that deepened slightly as he realized the pew was shaking beneath him, trembling as she trembled. His little trick was affecting her more than he had anticipated, and the look of mingled shame and arousal on her face was simply delicious. As the sermon began, he allowed his imaginary self to shed the little clothing he wore and part her legs, sliding into her with one deep, fluid thrust. Her face grew more scarlet by the second as she watched him take her slowly at first, but moving faster and faster, their faces displaying primal need and boundless pleasure. Finally, the girl could take it no more. Gasping, she bolted from her pew and into the bathroom at the back of the sanctuary. He smirked and let the vision fade from her mind, lulling her into believing that the torment was over. Sebastian slowly counted to ten before resuming the passage of his fantasy to her.

In the bathroom, Lyra splashed cold water on her face, gripped the sides of the sink to keep her hands from trembling, and tried to catch her breath. Oh, she could just murder him! Just as she was starting to get herself under control, the lewd images returned, showing Sebastian taking her on her hands and knees, the scarves that had bound her to the headboard still tied around her wrists. She covered her mouth with one hand to stifle a moan, sinking to the tiled floor with her back pressed against the door, her legs shaking too badly to hold her up. Almost against her will, her hand crept between her legs, rubbing herself through the coarse fabric of her jeans to try and relieve herself of this awful pressure. As the imaginary Sebastian moved his hips faster, she groaned and slid her hand inside her underwear, gasping as her fingers made contact with hot, sensitive flesh. Finally, as the two of them reached their climaxes in the vision, she rubbed herself harder and harder until the heat that had been building within her exploded into breath-taking release, her head tossed back and her mouth open in a silent scream. As she came down from her orgasmic high, she hid her face in her hands. _Oh God, I just touched myself inside a church. I made myself come inside a church._ Following almost automatically was the thought, _I am so going to Hell for this._

This brought Sebastian to mind, and the warm amber in her hazel eyes suddenly gave way to livid green. She stood and washed her hands in water so hot that it turned her hands red, then dried them on a paper towel before walking back out into the sanctuary, taking her place beside the demon as the congregation stood for the doxology. She was silent for a moment, then she leaned over and said in a calm whisper, "When we get home, you and I are going to fuck like bunnies. And then I am going to kill you."

Sebastian's only retort was a soft smile.

They dashed from the church as soon as the last note on the piano was played, weaving between the clusters of chatting folks and elderly couples that moved too slow. Once out in the parking lot, Lyra let Sebastian take the wheel, knowing he could drive much faster and much more safely than she could under such duress. It was all she could do to keep her hands from straying into his lap, wanting to touch him so badly that it hurt. Sebastian, seeming to sense this, drove with one hand on the steering wheel, stripping the glove from his right hand with his teeth and sliding his bare hand into her pants, rubbing her through the damp fabric of her panties. She writhed in the seat, thrusting her hips into his hand and moaning, panting his name lustfully. She was still angry with him, but that part of her was small for now, overshadowed by the crushing desire she had for him.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Lyra promptly leapt from the car, wanting to entice Sebastian into a chase…and stopped dead in her tracks. While they were away, someone had trashed the Aston Martin. The sleek black paint was terribly scratched, the windows smashed and lined with spiderweb cracks. The passenger side door had been almost wrenched from its hinges, and the upholstery had been cut to ribbons with a sharp object of some kind; Lyra had the sinking feeling that it wasn't a knife that had made those horrible slashes.

Suddenly, her insides wrenched; was the perpetrator still here? Perhaps he was inside seeing what valuables he could find. Knowing that Sebastian was right behind her, she bounded up the steps and stopped again, her eyes growing wide with horror. There on the mat in front of the door was a strange black, furry heap. Four legs stuck out at stiff, impossible angles, a long tail draped sadly over the mat like a limp flag. A strong, repulsive smell came from the sticky pool of dark liquid that the heap was lying in, something unpleasant and thick. It took her a moment to figure out what it was, but when she saw the pinkish-red strings of veins and tendons that trailed from where a neck should be, she knew.

Ludus was dead. The poor creature's head had been ripped off.

Lyra began to scream.

Suddenly, Sebastian's arms closed around her, one hand wrapping around her eyes to shield them from the hideous sight. She struggled for an instant, fearing that whatever had killed her kitty had come back for her, but then recognized him, turning in his arms and burying her face in his chest. He cradled her head in the crook of his shoulder as she sobbed in grief and horror, stroking her hair to soothe her. He felt a pang of sympathy for the cat-such a sweet thing, its death was a shame-but it was quickly replaced by the one detail that Lyra had missed. On the door, smeared in drying streaks of cat blood, were two words, their message as threatening as the ink they were written with.

**SHE'S MINE**

He suppressed a growl of rage; Lyra belonged to no one but him. He would tear to pieces anyone who dared try to claim ownership of what was his. He would not have his prey snatched from him again.

The girl jerked away from him, lurching into the house, yelping something about being sick. He sighed and followed her inside; calming her was the first priority. He could dispose of the body later. As he began ascending the stairs, he heard Lyra give a shrill cry, a sound that twisted to form the syllables of his name. Fearing that the killer of cats had been lurking in wait upstairs, he flew up the steps and into the hallway, unexpectedly colliding with the violently trembling girl, who clung to him desperately.

"Lyra, what-?"

"They know where I sleep. They know where I s-sleep. Oh God, _they know where I sleep._"

Sebastian lifted her into his arms, as it was obvious she was not about to let go of him, and went to her bedroom, stopping at the threshold and staring inside with hard, furious eyes.

There on her pillow was the cat's missing head.

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><p><em>Why do I do this to myself? I was in tears when I had to write about the cat dying. Sorry if this traumatizes some people. Please review, you know I always love to hear from you! <em>


	7. Chapter 7

_I cannot tell you how extremely sorry I am that this chapter is so late. My internet went away last winter, and my computer died, and I'm poor so I can't get a new computer or internet until next year. :(((_

_That being said, please enjoy the latest chapter!_

* * *

><p>The poor girl was in a state of constant terror for the rest of the week. She hardly slept, and when she did, she refused to sleep in her own room, adamant on sharing Sebastian's bed. This was a concession he didn't particularly mind. The girl also insisted on installing security cameras and alarms, despite Sebastian's reassurances that they were unnecessary. If a prowler came close while they were home, he would know in plenty of time. His words fell on deaf ears, however; Lyra would not be budged. Out of respect, he didn't make love to her once during the nights she slept in his bed, never advancing beyond chaste kisses and innocent touches. This was a heavier burden to bear. He still ached for her, and every day he went without seemed to add more fuel to the fire of his passion. A week went by, then two. Lyra was still nervous, jumping at loud noises and refusing to leave his side, and Sebastian still abstained, cursing his sense of taste and propriety.<p>

Eighteen days after the incident, Sebastian woke Lyra with a kiss to her forehead. Her sleep was so troubled recently that it didn't take much to rouse her. "Lyra. Wake up, darling."

"Mmm…" Her eyes fluttered open. "What is it?"

He pushed a stray curl out of her face. "I have to run some errands today, and I must do them alone."

Her eyes widened, and she propped herself up on her elbow. "Why? Sebastian, you know I can't handle being alone right now."

"Relax, love. You won't be alone." When she gave him a confused look, he sat up and put his hand on her knee. "A couple of old friends will be stopping by to keep you company."

"Old friends?" Lyra ran her fingers through her tousled hair. "Who?"

With a tiny smirk, Sebastian pointed to the other end of the room. Lyra's eyes followed his finger, widening as she saw two figures who had not been there previously standing by the door, one dressed in black and the other in red. Grell and the Undertaker waved at her, both of them grinning like Cheshire cats.

"Good morning, dear!"

Lyra yelped, blushing to the roots of her hair; she had gone to bed that night wearing only a white cotton bra and panties. She wrapped a sheet around herself and dashed past the two laughing reapers, screeching over her shoulder, "Sebastian, I swear I'm going to kill you!"

Grell's sharp teeth gleamed as she smirked at her retreating back. "My, still as feisty as ever, I see." Undertaker punctuated the redhead's observation with his signature chuckle.

"That she is," Sebastian agreed, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Ever more so since the incident."

"Ah yes, how dreadful." Grell sank dramatically onto a chair, pressing a hand to his heart. "The poor girl."

Undertaker's grin widened. "A shameful way to greet an old friend, if you ask me. Very distasteful."

Slowly, Sebastian stood, his crimson eyes narrowing. "An old friend?" His voice was low and threatening, hands curling into fists.

The Undertaker giggled, raising a long, spidery hand to his mouth. "Oh, dear. You didn't know that you and the girl have a mutual acquaintance here? I thought she had told you, they're quite close."

The demon's eyes began to pulse malevolently. "Who is it?"

"Come now, butler, where's the fun in that?"

"I warn you, reaper, I am in no mood for your riddles. Now, who?"

Undertaker only offered a grin in response. Sebastian glared at him, a misty black aura appearing around him as his eyes glowed wickedly. Just then, Lyra entered the room, dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt, her hair hastily brushed and pulled back. The demon, not wanting to alarm her, pulled his aura back into himself and took a deep breath, arranging his features into a more pleasant expression. The human girl raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing as she crossed to Grell, holding out her arms.

"It's good to see you again," she murmured, embracing the red-headed reaper. Grell, looking rather unsure of himself, lightly wrapped an arm around her waist and patted the top of her head.

"You too, dear."

She broke away from Grell and eyed the other reaper mistrustfully. Undertaker only grinned. Rolling her eyes a bit, she held out her hand. "Hey."

"Hello, girlie." He shook it slowly, trailing his fingertips over the mark on her palm. Lyra narrowed her eyes and pulled her hand out of his grasp, holding it to her chest as if he'd stung her. Her eyes flickered over to Sebastian, who was buttoning up a clean white dress shirt.

"Do you really have to go?"

He nodded and raked a hand through his hair. "I'm afraid so. This cannot wait."

Lyra padded across the room in her bare feet, sitting down on the bed. "Just hurry back, okay?"

Smirking lightly, the demon cupped her chin in his hand and raised her eyes to his. "I shall be as swift as the wind, my lady." Sebastian leaned down and brushed a reassuring kiss across her lips. Lyra ran her hand lightly down his chest, sitting back rather resignedly. As Sebastian made to leave, he whispered in low, dangerous tones to both reapers; "If anything should happen to her, I will personally make sure that your suffering will have no equal in this world or the next. Am I clear?" Grell gulped and nodded, ducking behind the Undertaker, who once again, only grinned cryptically.

Once the demon had left the room, Lyra stood. "So, do you two have anything planned for today?" She tried to sound nonchalant, but it was obvious that she was nervous. After all, her last outing involving the two reapers had not ended well.

Grell shook his head, grinning. "Nothing whatsoever. The days is yours to plan, dear."

"Oh goody." Small white teeth worked at her lips. "Can you two chill out downstairs while I take a shower?"

"Of course." Grell tugged on the Undertaker's arm. "Come on, darling, let's give the girl some privacy." Lyra wasn't sure if she imagined the feel of the black-shrouded reaper's hidden eyes crawling over her, but it made her shiver just the same, and she was glad when they left. Grabbing a towel from the linen closet, she scurried into the large, rather lavish master bath. She started the water and shimmied out of her clothes, pulling the rubber band from her hair and shaking out her wild curls. Just as she was about to step under the warm spray, she heard the familiar strains of "Ode to Joy" chiming from inside the pocket of her discarded jeans. Brows furrowing, Lyra knelt and fished her phone out of her pocket; the number was unfamiliar to her, but she answered it anyway.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Lyra? This is Angie."

Instantly, at the sound of the woman's maternal, if somewhat faded English accent, her face broke out in an illuminating grin. "Oh my god, hi! How are you?"

"I'm fantastic. And how are you doing, sweetheart?"

"Oh, I can't complain." _Mostly because if I gave you an honest answer, you'd have me locked up,_ she thought dryly. Wrapping a towel around herself, she sat on the edge of the sink, smiling happily. "What's up?"

"Well, I hadn't seen you in a while, and I was rather hoping you'd do special music at church with me sometime."

"Sure!" Her smile grew even wider. "Did you have anything in mind?"

"If you're not doing anything this afternoon, could you come over? We can pick out a song and decide which Sunday we'll perform."

"Hm." She chewed on her lip for a second; she hadn't been out of the house without Sebastian for over two weeks, and she knew that he would be irritated if she went alone. With a shrug, she decided she'd rather spend the day with Angie than with the reapers, and she'd deal with the consequences later. "Sounds good. What time do you want me over?"

"How about three?"

"Three is perfect." She hopped down off the sink, then abruptly straightened. "Oh! While I'm thinking about it, how come you weren't in church a couple of weeks ago? I was looking forward to seeing you."

"That must have been the Sunday I had to pick up my brother from the airport."

"You have a brother?"

"Yes, he's my twin, actually."

"Wow." Lyra nodded, twisting one curl around her finger. "That's cool. Okay, so I'll see you at three?"

"Yes, we'll see you then."

"Okay, awesome. Bye!" She hung up and shed her towel, stepping into the shower and sighing as the water ran down her skin. As she washed her hair, fingers working at her scalp, the smell of her shampoo suddenly kicked off a burst of memory. Sebastian with his arms around her, long hands sliding over every inch of her soapy skin, washing her and teasing her. He had pressed her against the sliding glass door and done things to her with his hands, with his fingers. He had kept her on the edge for so long that she had wept with frustration before he finally had mercy on her. Then as if to apologize, he had made love to her slowly and sweetly among the soft clouds of steam, his kisses deep and his touches gentle. There was a sudden sort of ache in her chest, and she realized that she and Sebastian hadn't even touched each other since the day they'd come home to find her cat dead on the porch. She was almost shocked to find that she missed him, missed the feel of his hands on her skin, of his breath on her neck. She missed the taste of her lips, missed the way he filled her so completely no matter what part of his body he used on her. Chewing on her lip, an idea forming in her head, she tentatively tried to cast her thoughts toward her lover.

_Sebastian?_

Instantly, a reply came. _Lyra? Are you alright?_

She smiled. _Yeah, I'm fine._ Just hearing his voice sent warmth rushing between her legs, and she picked up her washcloth and drizzled her body wash over it. _Just got to missing you, that's all._

_I've not been gone more than half an hour, my lady._

_ I know._ Slowly, each touch deliberate, she began to rub the perfumed gel into a lather on her skin. _I just got in the shower, and it made me think of you._

_ Oh, really?_ His voice was now that deep purr that dripped with seduction, and she couldn't suppress a soft moan. _What are you doing right now?"_

Grinning, she responded. _Washing myself and wishing it was you. I miss the way you touch me._

_ Not as much as I miss touching you, I promise._ She could almost taste the yearning in his tone, and she found herself craving him more powerfully than she thought possible. Every cell in her body demanded him, the blood in her veins cried out for him.

_How long are these errands going to take? I want you now._

_ I should be back in the early evening._ His grin was almost tangible, his words twisting around her like ribbons of silk. More than likely, he could sense how badly she ached for him, and he was enjoying the effect it had on her. _My pet, do you trust me?_

_Yes._

_ I want you to listen to me. Do exactly as I say, and nothing more. Do you understand?_

She nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her. _Yes._

_ Alright. Stand with your back against the wall and spread those pretty legs nice and wide._ He waited for a few moments, giving her time to follow his instructions, then continued. _Close your eyes. I want you to touch your breasts._

Her moan could barely be heard over the patter of the water as she took her breasts in her hands, squeezing gently and picturing Sebastian's hands on her. _Mmm…oh god, that feels good._

_ I can imagine the way you look right now. Your skin flushed with warmth, dripping with water. Brows crumpled ever so slightly, teeth tugging on those soft lips. Delicious._ Her throat worked as she tried to swallow, her mouth dry as cotton. He continued, _I bet your nipples are so hard now, aren't they? Begging to be touched._

Lyra brushed her fingertips over the erect buds, her moans growing louder. _Oh God, Sebastian._

_ Imagine I'm there, using my tongue. Kissing and licking your lovely breasts. I can almost taste you, my pretty one._

_ Christ,_ she gasped, her breath hitching as her heart began to race. _Please, stop teasing me. Let me touch myself. I can't stand it anymore._

_ All in good time, love._ Lyra could hear the smirk in his tone, and she whined, knowing that he wasn't going to take it easy on her. _For now, I want you to slide your hands very slowly down your stomach. Stop when you get your hips._

She did so, a smirk of her own appearing as she leaned her head back against the tile. _And if I don't?_

_ If you disobey me, little one…there will be hell to pay when I return._

Despite the warmth flowing over her, shivers ran down her back at the slight hint of menace in his words. She knew that he wouldn't hurt her, but that little thrill of danger made her flesh burn like fire, despite the goosebumps now prickling down her arms and legs. _Okay. I'll do as you say._

_ Good girl. Now, you're going to slide your fingertips up the inside of your thigh. Keep your legs spread, but make sure you've got your feet beneath you. We wouldn't want you to fall, would we?_

_ That would be my luck,_ she joked, doing as he instructed. Lyra could taste blood in her mouth; she had chewed the inside of her lip to shreds. More than anything, she wanted to slide her hand between her legs and ease the ache there, releasing the pent-up sexual energy she'd been holding back for two weeks. She needed it desperately, craved it with her entire being. But she knew Sebastian wouldn't be so merciful-not yet, anyway-so she kept silent, waiting for his next command.

_Start with one finger. Push it in slowly, then match your speed with your heartbeat._ His voice a teasing purr, he added, _I bet your heart's pounding away, racing like a spooked horse._

_ Of course it is,_ she murmured. _It always beats so fast when you talk to me like this._ A whimper wavered above the sound of the shower as she followed his order, thrusting her middle finger into herself in time with her heart. It was nice, but it wasn't the same, and she nearly growled with frustration.

As if sensing her distress, Sebastian's tone softened to a soothing murmur. _Easy, my love. I'll not make you wait for long. Touch yourself. I want to hear you moan._

Eagerly, she obeyed, gasping loudly as she felt pleasure surge hotly through her, every nerve singing as she started to tremble. _Oh dear God…_

_ God has never made you feel this good, my darling._ Lyra almost retorted, saying that God had done more for her than he ever could, but decided against it. Now as not the time for a theological argument. Instead, she pressed harder, gritting her teeth to bite back a scream. She could practically feel the demon's breath on her neck as he gave a deep groan. _That's it, little one. Lose yourself in sin, let me hear you. Don't hold anything back._

Her nails made a thin sound against the tile as her free hand scraped against the wall, her legs shaking as she tossed her head from side to side. Just a little more, and she would achieve orgasm; just a few seconds longer, and the sweet release would flood through her.

_Stop._

With a mournful whimper, she took her hand away, her chest heaving as she tried to return to a steady rate of breathing. _Sebastian, please._

_ Not yet. Stay still for exactly one minute and I'll let you continue._

_ But the water's getting cold-_

_ Endure it._

She scowled, though she knew he couldn't see. _You enjoy watching me suffer, don't you?_

_ Perhaps._

_ Sadistic son of a bitch,_ she growled.

His laugh was a soft, velvety rumble. _Such fierce words. Watch yourself, my pet, or I'll make it two minutes._

Lyra bit her lip and closed her eyes, pressing her hands against the wall. The water was lukewarm now, but against her hot skin, it was cool enough to make her shiver. She tried to swallow, but her throat was as dry as the desert.

_I'm having such difficulty deciding what I'm going to do to you when I return home,_ he said lightly, almost conversationally. _Should I finally tie you down so you can't thrash when I tease you? Shall I use my hands or my tongue first? Hm? Or should I just take you against a wall, hard and fast?_

_ Cheater,_ she whispered, grinding her teeth together, her toes curling slightly as heat crawled over her skin, combating the chill of the water.

_I never cheat, pretty. I simply make new rules. Only thirty seconds to go._

Deciding that two could play at this game, she purred, _Mmm, I think you should take me on the bed. Do you want me on top or bottom first? Or maybe on my hands and knees. You'd like to see that, wouldn't you?_ Her only response was a throaty growl, and she laughed. _Am I getting to you?_

_ Minx._

_ Sweetie, I'm just giving you a taste of your own medicine._ There was a pause, then Sebastian spoke.

_Time's up. Continue._

Immediately, she resumed her actions, her body brought down from its peak but still quite sensitive. She didn't even mind the cold water now as she came closer and closer to orgasm, Sebastian continuing to murmur filthy things in her ear. Her muscles bunched as she teetered on the brink, her entire body rigid. _Oh God, I'm so close._

_ Come for me, Lyra. I want to hear you come undone._

Moments later, she was screaming both out loud and in her mind, her body lit up with delicious sensation. Her eyes were squeezed so tightly shut that stars burst across her vision. It seemed as though her pleasurable high would last for days, but she soon began to coast down, her legs barely holding her upright as she went limp. _Jesus…_

_ If you enjoyed that, just wait until I get my hands on you._

_ Tease,_ she breathed, no real force behind her words. _You're so going to get it when you get home._

The demon laughed. _I look forward to it, my lady. Until then, I'll let you return to your guests._

Lyra lifted her head, her body straightening as she spoke out loud. "Crap. I forgot I left the grim creepers downstairs." She shut off the now frigid water and stepped out, quickly drying off before scurrying back into her room to change and brush the snarls from her hair.

After dressing, she padded downstairs in her bare feet, her brows furrowing as she heard voices coming form the den. Lyra paused at the bottom of the stairs; she didn't recognize the person speaking, and she was fairly certain the reapers wouldn't be watching television.

"…neglecting your duties to play nanny to a human. You're a disgrace, Sutcliffe."

Her jaw dropped in outrage, her eyes flashing with ire. It didn't matter what kind of people her guests were, she would not stand for them to suffer rudeness in her house. She was raised better than that. "Oh, hell no." Lyra strode into the den, hands on her hips, and instantly fixed the stern-looking stranger with a poisonous glare. "Is there a problem here?"

The stranger straightened, his expression cold as he cocked an eyebrow at her. "So you're the one causing all the trouble."

"Excuse me?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Last I checked, you were the one in my home-uninvited, I might add-insulting my guests. I don't know who you think you are-"

"Lyra." Grell's voice was tiny, but it got her attention. He had been trying unsuccessfully to duck behind the Undertaker, and was now pressing a gloved finger to his lips, as if warning her to hush.

"If you'll permit me, miss." His tone was icy as ever, though at least he spoke with a thin veneer of politeness. "I am William T. Spears, head of the Grim Reaper Dispatch Society." From thin air, he produced a card, which he held out to her in the hand that was not grasping a rather wicked-looking set of gardening shears. She swallowed and took it from him.

"You're…you're Grell's boss?"

"His superior, yes."

"Oh." To save face, she narrowed her eyes at him again, maintaining her air of defensiveness. "That still doesn't explain why you're in my house."

His mouth tightened a fraction, as if he were annoyed at having to explain himself to her. "I'm here to collect Grell Sutcliffe. He's been remiss in his duties _again._" His eyes, the same double-ringed yellow and green as Grell's, slid over to the reaper in question, who was still trying to cower behind the Undertaker. "I've had to put in overtime to pick up the slack, and there's paperwork yet to be done."

The redhead gulped. "But Will, I-"

"No more excuses, Sutcliffe. You've been enough of a headache for one day. Now come along."

"Hold on." Lyra's defensive posture softened a bit, but she still regarded William with a hint of animosity in her eyes. Sebastian would not take kindly to Grell leaving for whatever reason, and she shuddered to think of the consequences he might face. "He's here as a favor to someone. It's not like he's ditching work to play hooky."

"I know precisely who he's here for, and that is the reason I came." William's eyes narrowed with contempt. "Willing fraternization with a demon…it's as if you want to lose your job."

The human girl, feeling so weirdly out of her element, sighed and pushed a hand through her still-wet hair. "Look, he'll only be here for a few more hours, then he's all yours. Please."

William stood his ground for a moment, then sighed, the lenses of his glasses flashing as he closed his eyes. "Fine. As soon as the demon returns, Sutcliffe, you are to report to me immediately."

Grell nodded, looking relieved, and Lyra relaxed a bit. "Thank you."

Will's stare was piercing as he cast those otherworldly eyes on her. "You're lucky you're in my good graces, young lady. I wouldn't even consider it if you hadn't refused information about your father." At Lyra's obvious confusion, the first hint of anything resembling a smile crossed his stony features. "Your friend didn't tell you that it's against policy to disclose information about the deceased?"

"No…no, he didn't mention it."

"I thought as much. Good day." With a final glance back at Grell, William strode out of the den, his footsteps vanishing as he crossed the foyer.

Lyra blew out a breath and sat down heavily on an ottoman, cradling her head in her hands; the realization that she had just been bargaining with an omen of death was hitting her rather hard. "Sweet Jesus, my life has gotten bizarre," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"What was that, dear?"

"Nothing." She raised her head and glanced over at Grell. "Charming guy you work for."

With a dramatic sigh, the redhead leaned back into the couch. "That's all part of his appeal." A hint of a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, revealing the tips of his sharp teeth. "His coldness, his inaccessibility. It makes me want him all the more."

Rolling her eyes, the human girl took out her phone and checked the time. It was a quarter till two in the afternoon; she had about an hour to kill before she left for Angie's. Fishing her keys from her pocket, she stood. "I'm going for a walk, and I need to go alone."

Undertaker gave a curious little giggle as Grell's brow wrinkled in confusion. "How come?"

"I just…I just need to be alone with my thoughts for while." She had no intention whatsoever of telling them about where she was really going. One, she didn't want the two of them to insist on coming with her; that would be difficult to explain to Angie. Two, once they found out that she was still active in her faith, they would no doubt begin another spiel about how she was damned and God wouldn't save her. That was the last thing in the world she needed right now. "I'll be back before Sebastian comes home. You two can just chill out here."

"Alright." Grell's expression smoothed out as he crossed one long leg over the other. "As you wish, I suppose."

As she turned her back to leave, she heard the Undertaker's quiet, creaky voice. "Have fun, girlie."

Involuntarily, her hands clenched into fists. There was something sneaky in his tone, like he knew she wasn't being entirely truthful, and it irritated her. For an instant, she struggled with turning in her heel and confronting him, but decided quite wisely against it, walking out of the house instead. To her surprise, the Aston Martin was sitting in the driveway; as much as Sebastian adored the car, she was sure he would have taken it. Perhaps, some part of her speculated, the demon's errands had taken him where no earthly form of transportation could go.

That notion sent a small shiver down her spine as she slid inside, forgoing her Chevy for the foreign car. It purred to life as she ejected Sebastian's classical CD and inserted one of her old mixes, nostalgic songs from high school that she could blast with the windows down. The day was cool, but not so much that she would need a jacket, the sun hidden behind soft grey clouds. A slight smile surfacing, she tore out of the driveway, deciding to drive around to kill time. For an entire hour, she drove aimlessly through her hometown, down each familiar street, singing at the top of her lungs to the music bursting form her speakers. It felt wonderful to be alone in the small space where no one could hurt her or frighten her. In this moment, all that existed was her, the thrum of the engine, and the comforting music.

Time passed quickly, and soon it was almost three. She began making her way to the north end of town, where the houses grew nicer block by block, and the streets had lofty, pretentious English names. At five minutes till, she pulled into the driveway of Angie's house, killing the engine and sitting back with a sigh. Today, for the first time in months, she felt almost normal, like her old self. Able to find joy in little things like a good song or the wind blowing her hair around her face. It was nice to know she hadn't lost herself completely after Sebastian had taken over her life. She could still be a person without him.

Raking a hand through her hair to try and restore some semblance of tidiness to her windblown curls, she got out of the car and walked up to the front door, knocking three times on the paneled wood. A few seconds later, it swung open, and she smiled, expecting to see the woman who had become like another mother to her. Instead, she saw someone who looked eerily similar, but was distinctly male, with shorter hair and sharper angles to his face. He had Angie's exact eyes, however; a blue so deep that they seemed almost purple.

"Hello."

Swallowing, she shook her head. "Hi. My name's Lyra, I'm here to see Angie. Is she home?"

"Oh, right." The man spoke with the same faded English accent that Angie did, his pitch deper but the tone just as smooth. "She's actually out on an errand right now, but she told me you'd be stopping by." He stepped back and gestured. "Come on in."

"Thanks." She gave him a polite smile as she entered the sizable foyer. "You must be Angie's twin?"

"Yeah, sorry." He shut the door and held out his hand. "I'm Gabe."

"Nice to meet you." She took his hand, but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. The action was gallant, but it made her strangely uneasy, and she had the urge to wipe the kiss off on the side of her jeans. "Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Quite soon, I'm sure." Gabe led her into the living room, casually raking a hand through his hair, a blond in such a fair shade of platinum that it was nearly white. "You can go ahead and wait for her here, if you'd like."

Lyra nodded and sat down on the couch, her hand sin her lap, trying not to fidget. Something about Gabe made her uncomfortable, though she couldn't explain what it was. He was handsome, that was evident. He'd been nothing but polite to her. Besides, he was Angie's twin. They were practically the same person, weren't they?

Gabe sat down at the opposite end of the couch, a respectable distance away, but still too close for her comfort. "So, Lyra, tell me about yourself. Angie talks about you all the time, but I confess, I rarely listen." He smiled, and his eyes gleamed with something that made her feel like a bug pinned beneath a sheet of glass.

"Well…I'm twenty years old. I work at a gas station. I live just outside of town. I've gone to church with Angie since I was fifteen…" Lyra shrugged flippantly. "That's pretty much it."

"I highly doubt that." Gabe leaned back into the cushions. "Angie said you're quite talented, that you have the voice of an angel."

She gave an embarrassed laugh. "It's more of a hobby than a talent, and trust me, there's nothing angelic about my voice."

"Why don't you sing for me and let me be the judge?" He gave her an eager smile, and her stomach clenched oddly. Normally she had no problem singing in front of others, but this made her too anxious. Was it nerves? Dread? What was wrong with her?

"Um, I'd rather not. I'm not…warmed up."

"Alright, fair enough." His movements slow, as if she were easily startled, he edged closer to her. "So what about a social life? A pretty thing like you must have to beat the men off with a stick."

Lyra stared down at her hands. "I don't really go out much, to be honest. I've never really been a social person."

"So you're not seeing anyone?"

"Well…" She picked at her fingernails, avoiding the gaze she could feel burning into the side of her face. "In a manner of speaking, I guess."

"Dear, you either are or you aren't."

Lyra let out a breath and looked up. "Okay. I am."

Gabe smiled and patted her knee, either not noticing how she flinched or too polite to draw attention to it. "I knew it. No man in his right mind would pass such a lovely creature by." Lyra bit at the inside of her cheeks to keep from snapping at him about his careless and rather insulting comparisons; she was neither a 'creature' nor a 'thing.' "So, who's the lucky fellow?"

"His name's Sebastian. He's…not from around here."

"He must be quite an amazing lad." Gabe's stare continued to drill holes in her, and she shifted uncomfortably. "Do you love him?"

Lyra swallowed hard, wishing desperately that he had not asked her that. Did she love Sebastian? No, of course not; how could she? He was a demon after all-a demon who had raped her, bound her to him, and condemned her to hell simply for the fun of it. Who knew how many other innocent women he'd done the same thing to. Yet, there was a part of her, no matter how she tried to deny it, that had grown quite fond of him. He could make her smile even when she didn't want to, and despite everything, she felt safe in his arms, sheltered. He could be gentle, almost tender with her, like she was something precious to him. Lyra knew that none of this should matter, that it didn't cancel out what he was or what he'd done. There was no way she could have fallen in love with a demon. It was impossible.

"It's…complicated."

"I see." Gabe nodded, but there was an all-too-knowing gleam in his eyes. "How long have you been seeing him?"

"It'll be six months next week."

"Not long at all." He inched closer to her; she could feel the heat of his skin against her arm, and she fidgeted uncomfortably. "Still, you must feel _something_ for him."

Lyra quickly choked back her growing anxiety and irritation, forcing herself to make eye contact with him. "Look, this isn't really something I feel comfortable talking about. We don't know each other that well, and frankly, my personal life is none of your business."

Gabe's thin mouth curled in an odd smirk, and he backed away from her, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You're right, of course. Please forgive my rudeness." He leaned back onto the arm of the couch, stretching languorously, and cast his eyes out of the expansive bay window. "Ah, I see you got the car repaired. Looks good as new."

Lyra's brow knitted in confusion, the pit of unease in her stomach rising to sickening dread. "What?"

His expression was innocent as he turned to look at her. "Well, it had the hell torn out of it, hadn't it? Whoever did the repairs did an excellent job of it."

"How did you know-?"

"About the car?" He grinned, his eyes bright but cold. "Simple. I was the one who tore it apart."

Lyra felt as thought she had slammed into a brick wall, forcing the air from her lungs, her heart too shocked to beat. Her mind rebelled against his words; it couldn't be true! He hadn't known her before today, he couldn't have sought out her car specifically. Despite her logic, she knew he wasn't lying. Gabe had vandalized the car. Gabe had killed her cat. Gabe had written a threatening message on the door in blood. He was dangerous, insane, and for whatever reason, he was after her. Fight or flight instinct rose swiftly in her, compelling her to flee. She rose hastily, shoving her hands in her pockets to hide how badly they were shaking. "I should probably get going. I forgot about an errand I have to run." She backed toward the door, the words rushed and panicky as they tumbled out of her mouth. "Please tell Angie I stopped by."

She turned and bolted for the door, but it was locked fast, unable to be budged no matter how desperately she yanked. A mirthless laugh sounded behind her, and she froze, a shiver slipping down her spine. "Why don't you tell her yourself?"

Gabe's voice changed midsentence, became higher, softer. A woman's voice, so horrifyingly familiar. Slowly, Lyra turned, her stomach lurching as she saw Gabe changing…transforming. Hard lines became smooth, angles softened, hips and breasts swelled where there had been none. There stood Angie, smirking down at the frightened girl, looking nothing like the sweet, caring woman Lyra had known her as. Her mind raced, tried to come up with a rational explanation for what she had just witnessed, but when she could conjure nothing, she croaked out one word. "How?"

"Oh dear. And here I thought you were an intelligent girl." Angie cocked her head to the side with a cold smile and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they glowed an evil, pulsing fuchsia, the pupils black slits that regarded her with malicious, gleeful intent. She had seen those eyes before.

"You're…y-you're the demon who-"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Angie blinked, and her eyes returned to their normal color and shape. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I'm a bit pressed for time." With that, the demoness seized Lyra's shoulders and knocked her head back against the door. Pain burst behind her eyes, and the edges of her vision became black as her consciousness faded, blocking out however temporarily the nightmare she had fallen into.

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><p><em>Oooh, plot twist! Please leave reviews, I love hearing from you. Cheers! :)<em>


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